


Devil of a Time

by legendarytobes



Series: the devil and trixie espinoza [8]
Category: Constantine (TV), Lucifer (Comic), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Adult Trixie Decker, Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Devil Face (Lucifer TV), Friendship, Gen, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Trixie knows, Whump, devil bod
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 96,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: Mardi Gras is coming to the Big Easy while Trixie is working on learning about her miracle ability and helping Lucifer get back to normal. Michael is trying to help by finding out more about the miracles too, but seems to just be making bigger messes. However, once Trixie starts mastering her powers with Lucifer and John Constantine to tutor her, things just get more complicated because Papa Midnite wants her for his own, and the coming festival is going to be one Hell of a time...
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Dan Espinoza, John Constantine & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Michael & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar
Series: the devil and trixie espinoza [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1496072
Comments: 298
Kudos: 217
Collections: Filii Hircus: WIP It Good





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obvious, but part 8 of "The Devil and Trixie Espinoza" series, so should be read in order.

**Devil of a Time**

Slipping from down through Hell wasn’t something Lucifer did often. Except for punishing Dromos severely and make an example of him and getting back to _Tenebrae_ from the nest, he hadn’t done it in a decade. Hell didn’t have any pull on him the way it had when he’d killed himself to save the Detective. With his wings, such as they were, and the wrath always simmering beneath the surface these days, Hell worked _for_ him. Not the other way around. Not now. Still, the kingdom he’d left behind was no place he’d choose to spend his time. It never really changed, all constant ash and endless corridors. Screams rose at a fever pitch from the various loops and the snarls of demons echoed against the stones. And the smells.

Viscera always reeked.

And yet, for the second time in as many days, Lucifer used the quiet advantage of flitting down to Hell and back exactly where he wanted on Earth. Technically, Beatrice hadn’t asked him for either favor. Although he and Mazikeen both knew that Esmée’s nest needed to be torn apart. The rest of the supernatural community had to _understand_. More than that, it had to be left with roiling nausea and shaking fear at even the thought of crossing the Devil and his ward. This was…less justifiable. Yes, they couldn’t afford for the Detective or Daniel to come here either. However, he could have let Michael go in his stead. A little _command_ or two for that old bat, and she wouldn’t have been able to call to Austin.

Maybe it made more sense for him to go than his idiot twin since Michael had thoroughly bolloxed everything up already. But that would be a lie, and Lucifer tried never to do that, especially to himself and especially after compartmentalizing in Los Angeles far too long.

As he flapped his wings, grumbling at the ash getting caught in the folds of his skin, he concentrated and slipped into the sorority house. It was mid-day on weekday so at least the odds were decent that most of the girls wouldn’t be around. It wasn’t wise, but he’d been far from gifted with discretion most of his immortal life. Why start now?

He shifted back into the earthly plane in the middle of a long hall, which was empty. To his brother’s point, if it hadn’t been, Lucifer would have been left with screaming girls or even more incapacitated ones in his wake. Still, it wasn’t hard to figure out where the biddie stayed. She had that mangy feline after all, and he was able to smell that animal and its mess from up the hall. The door was locked when he got there, but it was child’s play to Will the locking mechanism to slide around, to make the door open for him. Lucifer eased the knob open and then sat down as best he could in the armchair at the corner of the room.

Now that he’d done so many times before, whether it had been sneaking up on that git who’d taken his acting role far too seriously and murdered to keep his fake family or waited at a house party for that damn smuggler of Carlisle’s to be pushed his way. Of course, he’d rarely snuck up on a human as he was now. Then again, the spawn’s chemistry professor seemed to be still functional, so it was at least a promising prospect in Lucifer’s book.

Although, after everything that had befallen Beatrice, he had little interest in preserving the old bat’s sanity. Murchison had clearly spent the year bullying his charge, and that was (as the nest he’d recently shredded could have told her) one hell of a mistake.

It took fifteen minutes before the house mum finally made her way to her room. She was carrying a tray weighed down with a sandwich and some crisps and seemed carefree for a woman who’d spent the better part of last night, apparently, invested in making the urchin cry. Perhaps calling the Detective and the Douche was the scheduled highlight of Murchison’s day. She seemed a nasty enough piece of work to revel in the discipline side of her job.

She was concentrating hard on the tray, on ensuring her tall cup of iced tea didn’t spill, and hadn’t yet looked up to her chair or to him. Murchison finally set her bounty down and made sure her door was shut behind her. Good. That would make this process simpler.

Lucifer coughed politely and as he had with Dr. Pachinsky, at least tried to start everything with a request. Granted, a request made by the Devil in all his so-called glory. But he could try politeness. His twin wasn’t wrong; having the old bat go insane and be reduced to a mess ranting about Satan wouldn’t help them either.

Murchison finally turned and stilled.

He grinned back, offering a feral smile for the woman before him. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. Lucifer Morningstar.” He shrugged, his wings struggling to flare out a bit as he did so. Lucifer kept them tucked closely to his back; there was nowhere near enough space to spread them to their full extent. Flapping at all would be a pain to get back out. “I suppose I humor the urchin enough that when she refers to me as ‘Luke;’ I allow it. My name can shock people quite a bit.” He leaned forward and kept his smile firmly planted on his face. “Now, I’d rather prefer it if you and I could have a talk.”

Murchison shrieked and started to the door. Lucifer sighed. Of course, nothing would be completely easy.

In a move faster than a human could have perceived, he rushed to the door and leaned heavily against it. Leaning down low, even as the top claws of his wings scraped the ceiling, Lucifer looked Murchison in the eye. He tried not to let the hellfire in his eyes flash more brightly. It was enough what she was taking in. The full press might snap her mind. She was certainly shaking enough before him, her voice a chorus of low, keening noises.

“Now, Mrs. Murchison, you so desperately wanted to meet with Beatrice’s townie. I’m here.”

“The club…” she finally stuttered. “It’s that club with the ridiculous Satanist theme.” She still shook but managed to point a long index finger at him belligerently. “This is a costume!”

Lucifer tilted his head towards her. “Is it? I suppose that’s possible, but you don’t quite believe that, do you? Humans can always tell.” He stretched his wings a bit behind him, forcing the claws to scrape against the ceiling, grey paint chips falling on him as surely as Hell’s ash had moments before. “I suppose I’m a bit rusty for all of this, but do tell me, Murchison, what is it you _desire_?”

He felt it as surely as he ever had, that pull, that edge of his power curling out from his gut and permeating the room. Murchison had tried to keep herself from screaming again by focusing on the floor and, for one, small second, Lucifer had worried without eye contact she couldn’t reveal her wants to him. He shouldn’t have fretted. As soon as he exerted his power---he’d once told the Detective it was a gift from God, and that no longer seemed funny---Murchison’s head snapped up, and she stared into his eyes.

“I am tired of chasing after idiot teenagers and watching them waste the best years of their life.”

Lucifer frowned. “Then why on Dad’s green earth do you stay here, you old bat? What do you actually _desire_ to do?”

“I’ve been doing this for thirty years. It’s the job I can keep, and I have five years before all my retirement and benefits kick in from working for Omega Chi so long. But I can’t help being jealous, to see girls with so much ahead of them, and to know that what’s left of my time is eventually frozen dinners, my cat, and a modest savings. That life passed me by while I kept these ungrateful children in one piece.”

Lucifer nodded. “And is that why you pick out a girl each year? Why you’ve chosen to make Beatrice Espinoza’s life so much more difficult than it already is?”

Murchison still had that far away, unfocused look in her eyes that anyone he _desired_ tended to get, but her voice perked up, emotion and actual excitement coloring her words. “She had the most going for her. I notice the girls who seem to take too many chances, and Miss Espinoza is one of those, but she also has a promising future, and I loathe that. The ego on these children. They deserve to be knocked down a few pegs.”

Lucifer couldn’t keep the low growl from bleeding into his voice. “So, it was a game?”

“There’s always a freshman to poke at. It passes the time. This year it was Miss Espinoza.” She blinked, and he knew then that the pull of his power was over. “I…what even are you?”

Lucifer let out a long sigh, and was tempted, so sorely tempted to let his eyes burn at their maximum, to give Murchison a preview of where he _knew_ for certain she was headed. After all, there was a special place in hell reserved for bullies. “You know. If you even dare to call Beatrice’s parents, then _I’ll know it_ , and I won’t be politely asking next time.”

The biddie seemed to snap even further out of her shock and dug her fingers into her jeans pocket, pulling out her cell. “I think…I have no idea what’s going on in that club of yours or with any of you…you monsters and Miss Espinoza, but I owe her parents a warning.”

The growl laced through his voice was enough now to rattle the pictures on her wall when he spoke, “Murchison, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He let his eyes start to truly burn, to let the hellfire rise and the preview of what was to come work to their surface. “In fact---” he started, as the world filled with a crimson gaze.

There was a familiar woosh of feathers, and Michael was between him and the old bat. His twin had shunted his wings away---some angels or whatever he was now had that luxury---so quickly that Murchison wouldn’t have spied them. Pity. Maybe the mix of Infernal and Divine would have cracked her fully.

His twin reached for Lucifer’s right wrist but thought better of it and held both hands up, palms flat to him. “Sammy, you’ve done what you came to do. We agreed that you wouldn’t drive her nuts.”

He narrowed his eyes and glared down at Michael. “You know, not everyone who sees the Hell preview goes mad.”

“Don’t they?”

“Occasional exceptions,” he admitted. “Please, Brother, she’s _enjoyed_ it, kicking the urchin.”

Michael sighed. “Samael---”

“He is not here.”

“Fine, _Lucifer_ ,” his brother huffed. “You need to let it go. I’ll make her promise not to call your detective, and we’ll go.”

“She set out to tear into Beatrice.” Lucifer objected, and the pictures rattled again in his wrath and the power of his voice.

Michael shook his head. “I’ve got this. We cannot leave a trail. If she starts ranting about the Devil, then you know that Detective Decker will figure this out. If the house mother is left a babbling mess, then Gabriel and Raphael won’t be pleased either about ruining our secrecy. _Let it go._ ”

“Don’t trying commanding me.” He said, standing up taller.

“I’m not, but I’m hoping you can grasp that it’s better if we get what we need than you terrify her---than you break her---because if the other archangels figure this out, I can’t stop Gabriel from doing whatever he’d decree with the miracle.”

That stilled Lucifer finally, and he felt the rage abate. While every part of him wanted the old bat to suffer for what she’d done to the urchin, he could tell his brother was genuinely worried. It would be a calamity for the Detective and the Douche to come here. It would be apocalyptically awful if the remaining archangels bothered to pay attention to him, if his brothers figured out that Father had left miracles behind at all. The heat left his eyes, and Lucifer let his wings droop behind him.

“Very well, Mikey. Let us finish this,” he replied, suddenly exhausted despite how early it was in his afternoon.

His twin nodded and turned back to the house mum. “Mrs. Murchison, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?”

She nodded, and it was only with the relative calm of the room now that Lucifer could detect the ammonia in the air. Perhaps he’d at least scared the biddie more than he’d assumed at first. “Are you going to hurt me too?” she asked.

Michael turned back to Lucifer and scowled at him before regarding Murchison again. “You’re safe. Neither of us are going to hurt you. Are we, Samael?”

He bunched his hands into fists at his sides. “If you call Beatrice’s family or continue to make her miserable, I will make no promises. However, if you listen to Mikey and obey, I suppose then we would have a détente.”

She started to shake again, and his twin held her shoulders delicately. “You’re going to kill me,” Murchison keened.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Assuredly not. Contrary to popular belief, I can learn my lesson. In that regard, you’re safe as houses, Murchison. Of course, after you kick the bucket, you’re mine, so I’d really try and take extra vitamins or what have you till then.”

Michael let out a long-suffering sigh but kept his focus on the house mum. When his twin spoke again, it was with all the authority of the Sword of God. “Be not afraid, Edith Murchison. You will not be harmed now by either of us. However, _you will not speak of us ever to anyone, and you will never call the Espinozas_. Do you understand me?”

Lucifer swallowed hard at the casual reminder that of course the Detective had remarried. Not that it hadn’t happened years ago, or so the urchin had explained. It was now history as far as everything was concerned, and yet…it burned and ached deeply in his chest to think of it. He blamed even overhearing the Detective on a call with Beatrice. Just _hearing_ Chloe’s voice had made him wish for things he could never have.

And dear Dad was he suddenly so unbelievably tired.

Murchison nodded and finally stopped trembling. That was the effect of an archangel, at least when they willed humans to relax around their literally awesome presence. Didn’t go the same for the Devil. “I promise.”

Michael nodded and patted her right shoulder politely as he removed his left hand from her other one. “Very good, Mrs. Murchison. You seem like someone who could use some rest after such a frightful nightmare. _Crawl into bed and sleep now. Question no more._ ”

She did as she was commanded and slid into her bed as if the Demiurge wasn’t just standing casually in her room. Within a few minutes the low, steady pace of her breath filled the room. Michael, seemingly relieved that she was complying with everything (and why would his brother ever have to fear for that?), turned to him.

“We’re done here. All of Trixie’s things are back in your apartment. There is literally no reason for you to ever come back here, Sam.”

Lucifer’s wings twitched, scratching against the paint of the ceiling once more, and he loathed them so much then. Granted, he’d never even be alright with their presence, but he could mostly ignore them. However, some days it felt like the blasted things had a mind of their own. Traitorous demons that they were. Michael had the decency to look away until Lucifer drew the damn abominations tightly against his back again.

“She hurt the urchin,” Lucifer pointed out, as if that should excuse everything. Maybe it should have.

“Well, Trixie is physically fine, and you’ll find her an apartment permanently anyway. It’ll be alright.”

“You say that,” Lucifer said, mindful to keep his voice quiet in case some sister of Beatrice’s found them both. “but you’re also the moron who just appeared in the middle of the sorority house bathroom.”

“Well, I was expecting to find her in a more solitary arrangement,” Michael said, readjusting his glasses on his nose. “Let it go. I…I understand more than anyone else save Father how hard it must be for you to ignore your anger on behalf of the miracles. But she’s fine. Inconvenienced, yes, but nothing that justifies driving a terrible---yes---but banally normal human crazy. Just let’s go home.”

“ _My_ home,” Lucifer corrected. “You stop in because you’re supposed to help me keep the spawn safe. You’re not off to a smashing start, Brother.” He let his wings out as best he could. They were not even half spread but still enough for him to flap and slip between the planes, which was all he needed.

Michael did the same, and as always, when Lucifer saw those snow white, gleaming wings, a part of him deep in his chest felt like it died just a bit more. Envy…of all the seven sins, clearly his least favorite. His twin nodded and flapped the tiniest bit, just enough in the tight confines of the room to escape and leave Lucifer alone.

The Devil shook his head and sighed. Of course, Michael could take the scenic route back to _Tenebrae_. In contrast, Lucifer was the lucky one who detoured through the land of sulphur and ash. Oh yes, when Father meted out punishment, it was well and truly _biblical_. But at least no news would get back to Texas today. That was all that mattered. It was proving beyond difficult to keep one miracle alive and safe in the Big Easy. They didn’t need a second.

And he couldn’t stand seeing the Detective again anyway.

Even if he wished it could be any other way as he unfurled his wings and slid back to hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie waits for Lucifer and Michael to return while getting in knife throwing practice at Tenebrae with Maze.

"So, you don't...I dunno...turn invisible yet, do you?" Taka asked, as if her tone had come across as casual in any conceivable way.  
  
Trixie sighed and leaned back in her chair around the girls' poker table. This afternoon, she'd been rounded badly by Maze, Taka, and Ez, who'd already left earlier for a gig of his at a bar further out of the Quarter. On the one hand, at least she and Michael had managed to find Beelz and get him situated. For now. He was still barking more than normal, and Trixie was legitimately worried the move had upset her pet. But it wasn't doing wonders for her or her concentration either. Murchison was going to call her parents. And that was bad enough.  
  
Worse was that Lucifer has decided to "fix" that issue, which had even odds of at least ruining her house mother's life if not driving her crazy. Granted, Pachinsky still seemed functional, but he also seemed to slur his words during the nine a.m. chem lectures and some of the rumors among even her fellow undergrad students was the the professor had taken to Irishing up his coffee. Granted, Trixie was pissed and a huge part of her figured Mrs. Murchison had earned whatever she got. But a raving former house mom wasn't good or discreet.  
  
Honestly, it wouldn't do good things for Lucifer either after the immediate gratification (and to be fair, there would be a lot) was over.  
  
Hence why Michael, the obtuse archangel who'd started this all in the first place, volunteered to double check on the whole thing and keep Mrs. Murchison from literally ending up in a padded cell. But considering the last time Michael had "helped," Trixie wasn't exactly reassured either.  
  
In short, the twins were oddly a handful for basically ageless beings who should know better, and she was struggling to play poker all while expecting the ultimate freaked out phone call from her mom. And it would be Mom on the other end. There was just no way her dad, love him, was going to be able to process the whole "the Devil is real, and he drove her sorority house mother Looney Tunes" without needing a massive moment himself.  
  
Which also fair. Maybe.  
  
Trixie wasn't quite sure anymore. Seeing Maze at eight just was. Honestly, her natural reaction has been a greedy one, as she's anticipated how much more candy they'd earn together with Maze's true face. (She'd been right too. Trixie had hidden her candy bag well and had enough of a haul to last until Easter.) She'd been told out of his own mouth that Lucifer was the Devil and always believed him, even if seven-year-old logic was hardly wise and definitely too trusting. But seeing him now in the Big East hadn't blown her mind either. Ditto for the right hand of God/dumbest angel she knew with Michael. Okay, until she was 100% sure Rae Rae couldn't Midas touch her dead, Trixie had been nervous around the Angel of Death, but the fact her assorted friends had half rotten faces, wings of divine light, horns and scales, or were burned to a cinder didn't faze her.  
  
Not really.  
  
Could be just she'd been subjected to it all at a super young age or the miracle-thing, not that it kept her mom from freaking the fuck out. G...no, just wish that it had helped her mom adjust to the infernal better. Or at all.  
  
But it wasn't so bad; it just was. Trixie wished other people could roll with it as well as she could. That was all. But it was nearing four and no irate calls had come in. So maybe Luci and Michael ---against all odds and just how had they constructed the universe again---had succeeded. Dear fuck she hoped so.  
  
"Woo! Trix," Taka said, setting down her cards. " I asked you a question. Do you think that your ability might involved invisibility cause the pool is getting pretty good and beads aren't cheap so... "  
  
Trixie rolled her eyes. "Nope. So far, so the same. I only do the same passive stuff that comes with being a Miracle: blood still must be like vamp crack which sucks, I assume that means Constantine is right and I'll be great as a blood sacrifice, which worse, and Luci's vulnerable around me. As for cool stuff? Nothing yet."  
  
Taka shook her head. "But you'd give a favorite demon a heads' up, right?"  
  
She grinned broadly at Taka. "Of course, but Maze isn't betting on me so I don't need to."  
  
Taka grabbed her heart and mimed being stabbed. "Ouch, Trix, hit me where I live. I think I'm a pretty cool sitter."  
  
Maze shrugged and hopped up to move the table and her chair and Ez's out of the way. "But I'm the original. Besides, and no offense, but the miracle stuff is more trouble than it's worth. Powers are one thing, but if you hunt well and have kick ass knife skills, Trix, then you won't even need a blessing or whatever."  
  
She stood and cleared her own chair, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet when Maze pulled out her dummy and her practice blades for a training session. "I'm not offended, but I suck. So far, I'm all minuses and nothing cool." She grinned broadly when Maze handed her a practice shuriken. " Oh, yeah, Michael tried to do that command stuff he does, but I guess miracles are angel-power resistant too. He couldn't compel me to do anything. So, I guess general angelish being fritzer is on my list. Joy!"  
  
Taka finally took the hint that the Bank of Espinoza was closed for the day and got her chair pushed aside. Although Taka seemed content to watch practice, as she sauntered over to the kitchen breakfast bar and leaned against it.  
  
"Angels are pious dicks. Being immune to them is probably a good deal, kid."  
  
Maze frowned even as she polished her own throwing star. "Wait, rewind. Michael can't do that annoying Voice of the Presence thing on you and get you to do whatever he wants?"  
  
Trixie started swinging her arms up over her head to loosen up. "No. He tried a couple of times, felt like nothing. So, then angel stuff doesn't do anything to miracles, right?"  
  
Maze stood stiffly and shrugged. "Well, not like he was ever around Decker to test it, but when Amenadiel could stop time, he definitely could do it to your mom."  
  
She stopped stretching and felt a heavy weight settle at the base of her stomach. "So, is that a bad thing?"  
  
Taka snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Angels are a pain and a half. This is only a good thing, Trix."  
  
"Maze?" She prodded, her attention fixed on her oldest friend. "It's not bad, is it?"  
  
Maze flung her shuriken hard, embedding it dead center in the dummy's chest. "It just is. Although, it's definitely interesting. I dunno how much you know about angels, but archangels in general? Big deal. Ugh, it's annoying but Michael's the biggest deal of a handful. Maybe, I mean, if it matters that much you're naturally invulnerable to things."  
  
" Yeah, I wish, " she replied, taking a deep, centering breath and squaring her shoulders as Maze taught her. Trixie arched her shoulder back and released the throwing star. Damn thing only landed in the dummy's left shoulder even though she thought she'd aimed for its heart.  
  
"You need to take the second breath," Maze said, her tone patient. "It takes that extra space to calm down and really anticipate where the knife is going. Think of it like a sniper lining up a shot."  
  
Trixie walked over to the dummy and pulled out both stars. Maze took her own back and nodded to Trixie to get ready and go again.  
  
She took a few deep breaths but stopped again, thinking back on Taka's questions. "I mean, if I were invulnerable, I wouldn't have sliced my finger two days ago chopping up avocado for Beelz."  
  
" Your squirrel is so noisy, " Taka grumbled as Trixie followed Maze's correction, took two breaths, and threw. This time the star embedded half way between the right shoulder and chest.  
  
Maze shook her head. "You're rolling your right shoulder in the exhale. Keep it straighter."  
  
Trixie sighed and reclaimed her shuriken again. "Beelzebub is freaked out. It's a big move for him."  
  
"See." Taka grinned. "Angels are trouble. So being resilient to them is pretty cool. Ooh, do you think you're really like Aquaman? Have you tried talking to fish?"  
  
Trixie huffed. "The Prince of Darkness can be a real dick. I'm not going to like commune with tuna. That would be the worst power ever."  
  
Taka almost doubled over laughing. "But it would be hysterical."  
  
Trixie twisted her body at the last minute and hurled the blade at Taka's head. Much to her frustration, the Lilim didn't even have to duck but plucked the star out of the air at a leisurely pace.  
  
"Struck a nerve. Don't worry, Trix. I'm sure you'll get there and it'll be awesome. What do you want to do if you could pick?"  
  
Maze crossed the room and took the star back from her sister. "I know you can't throw fast enough for it to be dangerous to us, but don't do that again. It's a bad idea. If you're aiming a throw at something, you mean to hit it. Hell, in the field, you mean to kill it. Always."  
  
She nodded and accepted the shuriken back. Maze was gruff and taciturn with her feedback but she'd been receiving it since she was eight.  
  
Trixie set the star down at her feet and grabbed her elbow to stretch her right arm over her midsection. She just felt too tense today, probably the lack of sleep. Taka was still looking at her, appraising her. Trixie knew the demoness well enough to know she wasn't going to let the question drop.  
  
However, she figured if she said her actual answer that Maze would just squeal on her or chastise her a little for being too naive or taking on too much.  
  
But truth was what Trixie wished she could do was fix Luci. So far, her angel interviews weren't but so helpful, and she wanted Lucifer to be as he had been for his sake.  
  
Yet Trixie didn't dare say that out loud. Instead, she settled for a half-truth:  
  
"I dunno," she said, picking back up the shuriken. "Maybe super strength? I get tired of being manhandled by every Big Bad out there." She gritted her teeth a bit before taking a deep breath and finally adding, "Man, could have taught that asshole Malcolm a lot."  
  
Or Cain for that matter.  
  
Apparently though, God only trusted full grown miracles with abilities. Major oversight.  
  
Trixie centered herself again and tried to keep in mind her tendency to roll her shoulder as she threw her star. And three things seemed to happen all at once. First, Lucifer and Michael apparated out of nowhere in front of the dummy; second, Lucifer (who was probably as tired as Trixie) didn't move but just flared out his right wing to deflect the blade from his brother. Third, since so far being a miracle was overrated and all she could do was serve as Devil kryptonite, the damn shuriken embedded itself in the membrane Luci's right wing.  
  
The Devil roared and both Maze and Taka tensed. Even his brother took several deep breaths until Lucifer calmed a bit and fell silent, his eyes dimming to normal levels of living crimson.  
  
Lucifer let out a put upon sigh but didn't yank the shuriken from his wing. Good, the edges were serrated and would make a mess coming back out, tons of blood guaranteed.  
  
"Urchin, you're getting better." His injured wing twitched. "I have, however, gotten somewhat rusty. Should have bloody well moved than get knicked by a mortal. "  
  
"A miracle," she corrected. "I...oh man, let me get you cleaned up, or should I just go to campus?"  
  
Lucifer eyed Maze, and they did that thing her parents did, the having a whole conversation by glances thing. Then, he replied, "Spawn, you're the one with vet training, are you not?"  
  
Michael frowned. "Forgive me, but I'm only so familiar with human medicine. More than most of the Host as Raphael talks about it, but what kind of doctor is a vet?"  
  
Lucifer grumbled, "The overpriced kind who take vacations to Hawaii all the time."  
  
Michael's brow furrowed deeper. "No, I mean, what speciality."  
  
Taka took a small amount of pity on him. "They're for pets. I...Angel, I figure it's all square with Murchison?"  
  
Maze twirled her own throwing star in her hand. "I could have gone. That bitch---"  
  
Lucifer's injured wing dropped and though he would recover even with her present, Trixie still felt like crap for injuring him at all. "She won't say a word to the Detective. "  
  
Trixie wanted to press more, to ask if her former house mother were still sane, but there were too many people around for that. Stepping forward, she carefully curled her fingers over Lucy's left hand, mindful of his claws. "Hey, let me get you patched up." She turned and offered Michael a tight smile. "I bet you have a backlog of angels to check in with, right?"  
  
He nodded stiffly. "That's true, Miracle. Brother, if you need anything, let me know."  
  
Lucifer rolled those bright, almost hypnotic eyes of his. "Lovely, because last time you helped went smashingly."  
  
Michael opened his mouth to probably argue the point but Trixie shook her head and cut him off. "Thanks, we will."  
  
The archangel spared one last glance for Lucifer's bleeding wing and then flapped his great, white wings once and was gone.  
  
She squeezed Luci's hand and offered him a grateful smile. "Come on, Satan. Let's get you cleaned up."

**

He grumbled as he dripped up the stairs and then the second hidden set to his room. Granted, his blood would come out of the hardwood, but it was the principle of the thing. He was many things now---few good---but Lucifer kept clean surroundings when things weren’t going pear shaped, well, minus his former piano. The blood was just inconvenient. He slumped into the bathroom, ducking a bit to make sure the high claws on his wings didn’t scrape against the door frame. Then, Lucifer sat down on the edge of his ample tub, assuming the position he had the first time the urchin and he had come across each other in New Orleans.

Seemed like it had all happened longer than ten weeks ago.

The spawn fretted around him and grabbed towels from his cabinet and then sat down on the edge of the tub too. She frowned a bit when she noticed a bit of the fringe was still wet from where he’d soaked around sunrise and in an effort to get ichor and filth from his skin. And, honestly, to soothe the burns too. Sometimes they bothered him. With that much constant kick motion and fighting, it had hurt worse than it had in years. Opened up in cracks and just…the soaking had helped.

Beatrice regarded him quietly. “So, uh, used the tub recently?”

Lucifer laughed lightly. “I am sure by now my idiot savant of a twin told you where Maze and I were last night.”

“He might have had part of a vamp ear on his shirt, dude.” She bit her lower lip instead of saying anything more and then dashed back to the far corner of his (granted huge) bathroom to grab the first aid kit she’d secreted there almost two months prior. He’d mostly avoided needing her to stitch him up, but considering his current pest of a wound, Lucifer couldn’t fault the urchin for her instincts. The urchin settled before him again and looked vaguely green as she evaluated his wing and the throwing star of Mazikeen’s still stuck in it. “Okay, we’ll talk about maybe less carnage later.”

“You will never talk Maze out of such a thing.”

“True, and Esmée’s nest deserved it, but I…did the vamps hurt you?”

“They’re woefully outclassed in such a fight, spawn,” Lucifer half-sniffed. He was the Lord of Hell, after all, give his prowess some credit. “But it is tiring work, and rather disgusting. A long bath was helpful and my skin---”

She stilled with her fingers on the star’s edge but didn’t yank it out yet. “Do they hurt?”

He tried to feign ignorance, but the spawn was the child of a great detective, after all (and one mediocre one), and she didn’t buy his answer, “The wings? Just the side you stabbed throbs a bit, child.”

She set her hand delicately on his chest, her fingers barely daring to touch the furrows and scars there. “Your scars…your skin. Did they hurt after the nest?”

Lucifer kept his focus on her and wished for once he was a liar. “They were sore after, but they are better now.”

Her eyes grew a bit shiny, but blessedly, she kept her composure. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it,” he replied; his voice a gentle rumble.

She shook her head and cursed a bit under her breath. “But you…everything with Cain was because of my mom being in trouble.”

“I clearly made my choices too, spawn. I don’t regret that I did it. Even dead, Cain was a problem, had his acolytes and still loyal henchmen looking to take you both out. If I’d suffered him to live, I shudder to think what he’d have done to all of you, even your father and Miss Lopez. Cain seemed hardly the type to leave witnesses behind.” He breathed more easily when she removed her hand and picked up a towel. Contact was hard, sometimes. “You didn’t do this.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like I did…or if you just hadn’t worked with my mom or, I dunno…”

“My father’s a right bastard, and that’s been true since before there was a Garden of Eden, offspring,” he offered, his voice low and thoughtful. “You don’t have to feel responsible for me, Beatrice, and you shouldn’t. All I desire is to keep you safe, and that nest had to be eradicated to do that. It’s done now, and my burns really do feel much better.”

“I only feel less crappy because I know you don’t lie, but I’m still sorry you felt bad this morning.”

“Well, it was rather enjoyable shredding those monsters. Maze and I haven’t had as much fun in years.”

“Good because this part is going to really suck,” she replied. “It has to come out for your healing---and we get it’s sluggish---to kick in. Since this is serrated…”

“Oh, I figured that, child. Just do it fast, would you? Having muted invulnerability is quite the bitch.”

She gritted her teeth and yanked the shuriken out with a quick, deliberate yank. Lucifer growled a little in reaction to the pain, the sharp stab through the surprisingly sensitive webbing of his wing. Beatrice was busy grabbing a towel and wiping up the rim of the tub. Then she grabbed a second and doused it with rubbing alcohol and glared up at him, her chin held high. “I need to disinfect it.”

“I’m the Devil.”  
  


She rolled her eyes, and it reminded him so firmly of the Detective then that he couldn’t breathe again while Beatrice continued. “And I’m a miracle, so let’s not take a chance, you big baby.”

Without waiting, she shoved the cloth against him, and he flat out roared this time, leaving the walls shaking. “Okay,” she snapped as the biting sting of the alcohol abated. “It’s…I don’t have to do that again.” The urchin was focused on pressing a clean cloth against the wound and staunching up the rest of the blood.

Lucifer had to give whichever---Dear Dad, fuck you too--- _veterinarian_ she’d interned with some credit. She was very professional, even if her bedside manner left a lot to be desired. However, for all her cool, gathered confidence, she still shook a little, her hands trembling over his wing.

“Urchin, I apologize,” he said, eyes studying the tile of his floor. “It was unexpected how much it stung. It was…”

“No problem. We had this real jerk of a Mastiff we had to deal with once every so often for teeth cleanings. You’re not any scarier than Bruno. Trust me,” she said, although her hand wasn’t quite still.

Lucifer’s left wing dipped even as he tried to keep the right one as straight as possible so she could finish her ministrations. Carefully, so very carefully, he reached out with his left hand and patted her shoulder. “It’s natural to be afraid of the Devil, child. Your miraculous nature aside, there are things deeply buried in any human’s psyche. I don’t take offense when you have a reflex. I know you don’t mean it.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes again and her hand grew steadier, finally. “I’m not scared of you, oh Satan. I just…you caught me off guard.”

He grinned a little at that. “Quite. Well, I suppose it’s nice to know you don’t think of me as only some kind of sodding, cuddly Care Bear. Ezzekeen has a big mouth, and he mentioned you think I and the Lilim are rather mellowed here in New Orleans.”

The urchin squinted closely at his wing, which, while it wasn’t bleeding any longer even with her present, had a five inch gash across its surface. Lucifer swallowed hard at the way he could see his bathroom wall through it. That wasn’t necessarily reassuring.

“You probably shouldn’t use it for a few days. I mean, the scar tissue will start adhering it together. You might need me or Maze or if you trust the other Lilim to take some time---assuming the next time your out of my radius it doesn’t just heal up like magic---well, take time to massage any scar tissue that forms. I was watching this Youtube video about fixing Flying Fox wings and the scar tissue can wrinkle the membrane up a bit and hinder flying.”

Lucifer blinked back at her, confused by half of what she’d said. “What in the bloody hell is a flying fox?”

“Well, I used a lot of Youtube videos to help me figure out how to feed and care for Beelz. I have no idea what you were thinking, but sugar gliders are complicated! He’s adorable but his food has to be frozen into cubes and he has his morning barks and then there’s the potty training we’re still working on…”

Lucifer gulped at that. “Please keep that rat off of me until you’ve got that handled.”

“Oh, totally, I couldn’t stand to hear you whine about it from now till I’m a hundred.”

He winked at her. “And I assuredly would. That little monster doesn’t like me much.”  
  


“He’s very protective of me. I think he thinks you’re a threat.”

“He’s not wrong, instinctively speaking,” Lucifer conceded. “Would that the tiny-brained miscreant understood we’re on the same team.”

Beatrice nodded. “Maybe he’ll get it since we’re living here now. Anyway, Flying Foxes are a type of bat. I figured, you know, while I was tooling around learning about Beelz, well, in case anything happened to you cause of my whole fucking up your usual resilience problem that it would be good to know how to help you.”

He quirked his head at her and tried to force himself to speak. Her thoughtfulness overwhelmed him for a moment, and it had been eons since he’d felt like anyone had considered him so thoroughly or without a trade-off in the deal. Maybe not even in the Silver City, although Azrael might argue that point. “That’s rather kind, child, although I’m mostly sure that when you head to class, the wing will heal perfectly well on its own.”

“Alright,” she said, evaluating her cleaning one last time. “You can let it rest now. I’m sorry that I clipped you.”

“Honestly, I’d rather you do that and _learn_ how to work well with Maze…how to _protect_ yourself than not practice at all. Next time, though, I’ll be mindful where I materialize on this plane and assuredly never do it in Maze’s room-slash-dojo again.”

She nodded and set the bloodied towels on the table. “Well, I can go to campus to the library tomorrow if you need some healing time. I have a term paper for Spanish literature class I need to get started on anyway. It’ll probably give your wing enough time to heal, I hope.”

“Lovely,” he said. Then, his tone sobered. “Beatrice, Michael and I were able to convince your house mum not to call your parents. To be fair, Michael did a better job than I.”

“But she’s not like crazy or something, right?” the urchin asked, and she blushed a bit as she made her inquiry, as if she were worried that she’d embarrass him.

Hardly.

Granted, it would have been unwise to render the old bat a raving mess, but for a moment before her, he’d very much _wanted_ to. It was a good thing that his brother had stayed his hand in that. Lucifer sighed and leaned against the wall behind him. “She’s safe as houses and right as rain, pick your euphemism, child.”

“Good, that’s really good. Cause Mom would totally flip a shit if she found out.”

“Exactly, which is why even though we stopped that call. You need to get ahead of this and at least spin whatever story you please to appease your parents. Since you’ve a mobile on you, they never call the sorority house directly anyway. That makes covering things far easier. After spring break, we’ll get you settled in an apartment near campus, of course.”

Beatrice’s head snapped back as if he’d slapped her. “I thought I was staying here.”

Lucifer arched one, scarred eyebrow ridge back at her. “If you stay here, that squeaky toy you call a pet will keep me up all the time. Besides, urchin, you need more space for yourself. At _Tenebrae_ , you’d have nothing more than an alcove.”  
  


“I was a freshman at the house so I got the like crappiest floor with one of the smallest rooms anyway. Your so-called alcove gives me more headspace than all of my room!”

He frowned; she had him there. “Yes, but it’s not…you shouldn’t have to live with the Devil. It’s unseemly.”

“Yes, all those raging orgies you currently host here and the lines upon lines of cocaine. Puh-leaze.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her even as he felt the heat gather in them. “Well, if this were Los Angeles, both things would assuredly be true and then some. Have you even heard of ayahuasca, child?”

“No?”

“That would have been a casual Monday for yours truly, once.”

“And now that’s us, a terrible movie marathon because you’re still very gifted at torture, and something carryout from the Quarter. Totally scandalous.”

“Neither Maze nor I are Mary Poppins.”

She smirked at him, the cheek of this one. “Debatable. Besides, I spend half the week here anyway and---”

“Urchin, we will debate this after you come home from spring break. However, it’s not right of me to impose on you to this level. You deserve to be with your school mates, to be close with your sisters even if you’re not in the same house. Bloody hell, what about that idiot git from your chemistry class you take notes for. Seems like a nice enough if not very bright chap. Do you fancy him?”

She burst out laughing at that. “Ted? Um, not exactly. Dude’s too wasted on pot most of the time, but he’s got some cool urban exploring vids, and he knows a lot of the best abandoned places in the city. I mean, he’s fun to talk to when I deliver his notes, but definitely just a friend…and you’re trying to distract me and so not cupid, Luci.”

“I’ve match made often in my time. If you had access back to the old precinct, you’d find I set up at least three happy couples there,” Lucifer replied, sighing and letting the heat go out of his gaze. “I want more for you than to be isolated here, urchin. I _have_ to be by default. You have more ahead of you, great things if you can get into medical school as you so desire. _Tenebrae_ is too distracting. Besides,” he added, sitting up straighter. “I promise I can find you a terrific flat.”

The urchin glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not taking handouts like that, Luci, and I like being here.”

“We’ll table this until after Mardi Gras and your break, but do be reasonable, urchin, you need human friends and associates too. That’s really a bare minimum expectation for you.”

“I have them.”

“You need to be near them, and spend time with them too,” Lucifer said. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. College is a rather brilliant time, and the parties…”

“How many sororities have you hung out in back in your day?” she asked, her interest finally piqued.

“Less than you’d think, but it’s still worth having the real experience, Beatrice. But to even keep you on track, you need to go with Maze and Taka to a café, somewhere where the noise of the club getting readied and opened won’t bleed into your call, and get in touch with your mum and dad. We need to keep this controlled.”

“It’s kind of like a runaway train, dude.”

“No, it’s to be an upgrade in accommodations, no worries,” he replied. Then, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder, mindful as always of his claws. “Don’t pout, urchin. It’s not a great look for you. You end up looking a bit constipated as your father always did when he was upset over something petty.”

“Like missing pudding?”

“Always, spawn,” he replied, offering her a soft smile. “Look, put out any potential fires for the lot of us, and tomorrow, you and I will go out.”

“Ooh, ready for round two with the clown?”

“No, but I’ve an idea, and you still want to figure out your ability, do you not?”

“You hate that I’m trying.”

He shook his head even if his eyes burned brighter, betraying him a bit. “I worry that you’ll attract trouble to yourself. That’s different. However, you’ve been working hard with Azrael and Michael, much to your deficit in his case, to help me with my problem. It’s fair that I help you with your miracle research as well. So, urchin, have we a deal?”

She squinted her eyes at him and that was a calculating look that was solely the spawn’s, crafty minx that she was. “Movie night after. _I_ pick the feature. Do you feel lucky, Luci?”

“You utter parasite!”

“Deal or not?”

He sighed but eventually nodded. “Do be gentle with me, offspring. I’m wounded currently.”

“You’ll be fine; besides you have appalling taste in movies, Old Scratch. I need to return the favor for _Conan the Barbarian_ night.”

And somehow, despite the demons he’d conquered and held dominion over and the Host he’d battled, Lucifer suddenly felt as if he’d been dealt a grievous and devious blow by the urchin. But really, how bad could what she would pick even be?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie calls her parents to keep suspicion away, and later she and Lucifer go out to try and practice potential miracle power candidates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being gone so long. School's been tough so updating schedule for this (and any other fics) has been hard due to how much I've had on me. I don't promise any regular updates till May 11th, but I'll try to not be gone for two months in the future :P
> 
> Also, thank you to people who have left such lovely comments on this fic and this whole series in the interim. It's been very inspiring/encouraging!

**Chapter Three**

Trixie sat down at one of the padded green chairs out on _Café du Monde’s_ patio that looked about as old as her grandma was. Mid-century modern and all that but probably because it had come from the ‘50s and never actually left. The patio was freer this evening than trying to get a seat in the hustle and bustle of the café’s inside, and she was happy to let Maze and Taka push (albeit hopefully not literally) their way through the line and get some beignets ordered. In the meanwhile, she pulled out her cell phone and a small reporter’s notepad. Sometimes, when she was really nervous, just absent-mindedly doodling on essentially scratch paper kept her grounded. Currently, even as she started scrolling through her contacts for “Home,” Trixie pulled out her favorite ballpoint and traced the outline of a cat.

She set the phone in the crook of her neck as she continued doodling, giving the cat a lot tail with a white flash of fur at the end and a bit of a bend to the poor, bedraggled tail as well. As she waited through the dial tone for someone to pick up, she also worked a bit on the cat’s face, and the street animal’s milky-filmed right eye.

On the fifth ring, her dad finally picked up. That figured. They got way too many solicitor calls back home because, seriously, who even had a landline. If her abuelos didn’t find it less confusing to call directly to their house, Trixie suspected they’d have dropped it long ago. However, between the “let’s wait it out and see if it’s an actual person” approach and the long hours on third shift, she figured it would take a bit before one of them picked up. She was glad it was her dad. He was easier to snow.

Always had been.

“Hey Monkey, how are you!” her dad asked, and he yawned a bit in the background. “Mom and I have to be at the precinct in a little over an hour. Hate these late nights.”

Trixie continued shading her cat and waiting for her demons to return with the sweet treats (she was nothing if not a multi-tasker) as she figured out what to say next. “I had heard from Abuela Minnie that this is stretching out for like a week. What gives?”

Her dad sighed on the other end. “You know I can’t tell you about active cases, Trix.”

“Well, maybe I have an outside eye on it.”

He chuckled. “Doubtful. We’ve been hitting dead ends all week. I…it’s more gruesome than usual, but I figure some gang turf wars turned bad. Crime scenes are just a little different than usual, weird paraphernalia, but we’re working at it. I think your mom and I are both extra motivated so we can get back to sleeping normal hours.”

“I hope so. I know late hours just make Mom snore worse.”

“You said it, Monkey. Not me.”  
  


“Ha. I just…cool. I was doing a check-in, since, you know they’re mandatory now.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“You can’t be huffy when we try and get in touch with you after mass like we always do, and we can’t get talk to you for hours. Then, you’ve been out drinking the night before---”

“Which was a few months ago. I don’t need the full _Shawshank_ approach.”

“Maybe, and you’ve been very good at checking in on the dot.”

She nodded to herself and started working on the doodle-cat’s collar, something with a diamond-shaped name tag. “Anyway, look, I know you all aren’t really that clear-headed with how this latest case is bugging you, but my Big Sister, Lettie, just lucked into a house off campus. One of the older sisters at Omega Chi graduated a semester early and started subletting to her. Sometimes, I’ve been spending evenings over with her cause she has a twin bed set up…anyhoo, her roommates like me and they’ve asked me about thinking of renting a room in the house off campus next semester.”

She’d thought up the lie for the bulk of the afternoon before easing over to _Café Du Monde_ to call her parents at almost six p.m. Trixie had thought ahead and had Maze and Taka ask her perspective questions just so she’d be even more adept at navigating any grilling her parents gave her.

“But the sorority house comes from the dues and those aren’t cheap, Monkey.”

“Yeah, but I have my student job and if Lettie and I officially share the room next year…shouldn’t be a big deal. It was more I wanted to give you both a heads’ up that I’m thinking of being fully off campus as a sophomore, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if I like that. If you’re at least on Greek Row, more people can keep an eye on you. Besides, I know you’re gonna blow me off, but New Orleans isn’t the safest city out there. You would do better being fully on campus.”

“Yeah, but Lettie’s not my only friend who lives off campus.” Which true. Trixie just wasn’t gonna mention her other non-campus friends included Lucifer and Maze out loud. Or ever. “It’s just what I’m thinking about. We can talk about it more over the summer. I mean, they won’t for sure need a deposit or anything till August and, like I said, I mostly have that covered between splitting the room and the student job anyway.”

Her dad sighed again. “I have to grab the shower really fast since your mom’s done with it and drying her hair. She can talk with you. My vote is a big no, but theoretically, you might be able to talk me into it over spring break. Look, it’s a lot to drop on us this time of the day---kind of morning for us---you know?”

“But you want me to communicate. Lettie just offered, so I’m trying to be on the ball here, Dad.”

“Monkey, I can tell a hot box kind of hard sale when I hear it. Talk to your mom and then we’ll all really dive into it in a week over the break, okay?”

She finished coloring in the cat’s dark black fur and mhm’ed a little on her end of the line before adding, “Sure, but I think it could be a good idea---”

“I think it was generous enough letting you have a sorority house to tool around in.”

“You know it’s not like 1895, and you don’t have to protect my virtue.”

“But I can tell you if I think that ‘living off campus’ feels like code for maybe too much freedom. Trix, I have to get ready, but here’s your mom. Love you, thanks for calling!”

“Love you too, Dad. Good luck with the murder stuff!”

Which really if people didn’t know that her parents were detectives probably sounded weird over the phone. Trixie was pretty sure it wasn’t her imagination that at least one patron at the café was eying her with intense scrutiny after that comment.

There was the sound of shuffling on the other end of the line, and her mom answered next. “Trixie-babe, what’s up?”

“What’s up with you? Dad said you had a bonkers case all week.”

“Your dad knows better than to say too much about cases.”

“Like I haven’t snuck looks at your casefiles for years, Mom,” Trixie pointed out, which wasn’t untrue. It was just that going into the family business of law enforcement had never interested her. It didn’t mean a good puzzle didn’t intrigue her, just that she didn’t find homicide her life-calling. “But it sounds like it’s a lot.”

Her mom hesitated before continuing. “Well…the scenes are pretty rough. I’ve seen a few things like that in L.A., but a lot of it was back with, uh, honestly _The Sinnerman_ stuff.”

“Dad said it’s gang warfare.”

“Dad _wants_ it to be that straightforward, but some of the scenes are definitely weirder than I’ve ever seen out in Austin. It’s a lot. So, your dad mentioned you’re lobbying to change living arrangements for next year?”

Oh, that explained the pause and the static. They’d tried to hide that little info exchange from her at first. Figured.

“It’s just maybe co-habitating with Lettie, my big.” Which if she could actually convince either a certain Devil she wasn’t inconvenient or get Beelz to bark less and chill with Taka and Maze in their apartment, actually meant _Tenebrae_. Or so she hoped. “It could be a good deal. I can probably swing it financially on my own, but you want me to give you a heads’ up with everything. I figured we could talk about it over the summer.”

“Your dad wants to talk about it over break.”

Trixie bit her lip and set her pen down. “I…maybe I should just stay here over break? I mean, I’ll be tired after Mardi Gras and, uh, organizing our float for Omega Chi. Then, there’s all the expense of traveling and I could just use the credit for something I _need_ to fly for later.”

“No.”

“Mom---”

“We haven’t seen you since Christmas, and your abuelos already have stuff planned for when you get back. Honestly, Monkey, your dad is going super stir crazy without you to hang out with.” Her mom sighed. “He has another improv show coinciding with your break, and he’s been way too excited about it.”

Trixie shuddered and was glad she hadn’t put everything on Facetime. The things she did for her dad. “I know but it could just be easier---”

“I’m not convinced by any of this, Trixie-babe.”

“What?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t squeaked on that question.

“The time you missed our call, the way you’re too busy to talk too long, all the worries you had earlier in the semester about your ‘friend’…Trix, it’s one thing to be dating, but you still have to come home.

She muted the phone just long enough to bang her head against the white Formica of the table. Maze and Taka were finally back, and the bigger demoness had a stack of beignets on a tray that must have been almost a foot high. Right, demons ate a ton. Maze frowned at her, and Trixie shook her head fast and pointed to the phone. Bringing her forefinger to her mouth and hinting for silence, Trixie pressed the mute button again and spoke.

“Mom, it’s really _not_ a boy. I just…I really like New Orleans, and I didn’t think I needed a break.”

Maze’s brows furrowed at that even as she and her sister took their seats at the table. The scent of baked bread and probably a pound of powdered sugars hit Trixie’s nostrils, and she started salivating. She’d grab her share soon, but she needed to get her mom off the phone and headed to work.

“You are coming home, and don’t you even _think_ about canceling your plane ticket. Do you hear me, Monkey? We have a lot to talk about when you come home, especially about all the things you’re clearly not really telling us. I just…you might feel like you’re a grown-up now, but we still pay part of your tuition and you’re on our _health insurance_ and about a million other things you don’t really understand yet that we’re responsible for. I’m just worried about you. You seem very distracted lately, Trix. I just…we want to see you and in a week we will.”

“I…okay, Mom, but we’ll definitely talk about the off-campus housing stuff, right?”

“Oh, you bet. Besides, we all miss you, Monkey. It’s boring around here without you.”

She snorted. “I doubt it’s ‘boring,’ if you’re working on solving cult-like murders.”

“It’s boring around the house. We are both dying for a game night with you, Monkey. So, you go and get through the final week before break, and we’ll catch up tomorrow, okay? Love you.”

She swallowed hard before replying. Of course, her mom hadn’t really bought any of her million “I’m fines” over the semester. Chloe Decker was many things, but an excellent detective was pretty much top of the list; it made being her kid tricky. “Alright, Mom, love you. You and Dad be safe.”

“We will, always.”

Trixie clicked the phone off after that and settled it back in her jeans’ pocket. Taka had already scarfed through one beignet and was working on her second, the corners of her mouth coated in powdered sugar. Yes, fearsome hellions surrounded her, truly. Maze was still studying her with intense scrutiny, and, most days, Trixie felt like she was getting it from all sides, both with her parents and with Lucifer and Maze. People should trust her more to make her own decisions. It wasn’t like she was bad at it. Damn it.

“Whelp,” she said, grabbing her own sugary treat. “Cover story in place. If I get somewhere off campus to live, at least Mom and Dad won’t think I blindsided them.”

Maze shrugged. “Dan’s pretty good at getting blindsided. Decker’s harder to fool.”

“Stupid demonic hearing. You got that part too, didn’t you? That Mom’s not exactly sold that everything here in New Orleans is puppies and rainbows?”

“Look, I’ll do some practice cross-examination with you before you go home to Austin, Trix. Decker’s hard, but clearly she can be fooled.”

Taka coughed at her sister’s comments, bits of powdered sugar flitting through the air as she did it. “Okay, fine point.”

Trixie sighed. “No, it’s true. Mom clearly didn’t want to see that Cain sucked, and, okay, not rocket science to get that back then Maze was really bad at blending in and talked about being a demon 24/7. I mean, I think Mom and Dad---okay Dad still does---but I think they figured you and Lucifer had like shared delusions or something? I dunno. But Mom only gets the wool pulled over on her when she _wants_ to ignore things. Currently, she’s half-convinced I’ve been distracted by dating and that I’m not keeping up with my studying.”

Maze rolled her eyes. “More like with shared babysitting. Still, don’t worry, little human. I’m good at lying, totally smooth at it. We’ll get you prepared for the gauntlet when you’re home.”

“And you’ll take care of Luci while I’m gone?”

Taka rolled her eyes. “Kid, he’ll be fine while you’re out. No worries. He made it ten years without you. Besides, I mean, my brothers are mostly morons, but we’re not completely boring. We can hack it.”

Maze nodded. “Exactly. Go home, get prepped to lie your ass off, but enjoy home with your family. Look, I don’t like how Decker handled everything.”

Trixie shook her head, and reflecting back on her drawing for Michael, decided it might be funny to sign her homeless cat doodle. As she laid down her John Hancock, she glared back at Maze. “It’s okay. You mean that Mom fucked it all up.”

“Trix, humans don’t do well with all the Hell stuff. It’s a total mindfuck…if you’re apparently not eight the first time you see it _and_ a miracle. Linda just saw Lucifer’s face in a very neutral; setting on a therapy couch and she didn’t speak or like leave or office or stop shaking for over a week. It was at least a month before she was good as a therapist again. Decker…she saw the whole thing plus her asshole ex-fiancé got killed in the deal. Cain fucking had it coming, but I’m not surprised. I mean, yeah, I wanted to be wrong about how she’d handle it, but humans and the demonic? They don’t really mix.”

“Maybe.”

Taka bit into like her third or fourth treat. “Definitely. It’s just not really something humans can tolerate, usually.”

“And while Decker didn’t handle this whole situation for shit, I understand it,” Maze continued. “I don’t have bad feelings toward her or Dan or doesn’t even know.”

“Oh, so aware of that,” Trixie said.

“But you have to go home and live your life too, you know? Part of that is seeing your parents. It’s really fine. Taka and Ez and I…we have this handled.”

“I guess so.” She bit into her beignet and tried to avoid making a truly obscene noise as she did. It was really good. She might have to come by the café like a lot more, especially now that she was living in the Quarter. “It’s just---”

She stilled then as her eyes fell on the large, mangy-furred cat that was swiping its paw through the wrought iron of the fencing and trying desperately to sweep a few crumbs its way. The cat with the milky eye, bent tail tip, and diamond-shaped name tag.

Taka waved a hand in front of her face. “Hey, earth to Trixie. You okay? I know all of this is stressful, but you just completely spaced out.”

She shook her head and turned her focus back to the snacks in front of her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thought I saw something.”  
**

“Urchin, you look rather peaked. Are you sure you’d like to go to test your powers out and about tonight?” Lucifer asked as he peered at her from his sofa and into her alcove.

She’d gone to campus all day to legitimately collect supplies for a term paper on Isabel Allende she really should have started by now, and because if she spent about eight hours that far _Tenebrae_ , Trixie hoped it would fix Lucifer’s wing. Stupid, useless miracle abilities. At least she’d come back at seven with a good start to her research and a Devil with a fully healed right wing. Luckily one that seemed to lack any scar tissue too, which joy. She had a feeling Maze would have bitched about having to massage out any remaining scar tissue if the healing had gone wrong.

Oh and a nice bed set up.

Lucifer was definitely leaning into the “get your own apartment and be normal” rhetoric, but he’d also clearly sent Taka and Maze out to get her supplies in the interim. The first night, Trixie had slept on the sofa. Currently, she was lying instead on the four poster queen bed in the alcove and staring up at the gauzy fabric draped over it. Total princess bed.

Oddly a sweet gesture.

And yeah, of course Lucifer had enough room in his former library for something that big as well as a good sized dresser for storing her clothes and Beelz’s cage and accoutrements.

However, since last night, she’d been nursing a migraine. It had been so bad when she’d woken up, that Trixie had been convinced it was that time of the month, since she’d only had migraines this bad the first couple of times she ever got visited by Aunt Flo like back in eighth grade. No dice. But since the headache had persisted all day, Trixie was pretty sure it had to be stress.

She was swimming in pretty much _all_ the stress, after all.

Trixie sat up and trudged over the sofa. “I’ll be fine, Satan. You’re not getting out of helping me that easily.”

“Fair, but if you’re feeling under the weather.”

“It’s just a headache.”

He nodded and stood, tucking his wings tightly to his back as he did so. Still, she was able to catch another glimpse at the webbing of his right wing and let out a deep breath when she saw for about the tenth time today that it was fixed. It was obvious it would eventually be---whether she stayed away or not---but his injury didn’t make her feel anything but guilty. Lucifer slipped behind his bar, and she wanted to roll her eyes at him grabbing a drink before they took off. She did _not_ need him to fly drunk or like wobble too much or even drop her. Nope.

“Hey, maybe drinking after we get back. I’m not sure how passenger ready you’ll be otherwise.”

He brought a hand to his chest. “Aren’t you cheeky today, child. Besides, you wound me,” he continued, ducking low to rummage through the shelves of his bar. When he stood again, Lucifer had a first aid kit in his hands.

“I thought you kept yours upstairs.”

“I do keep _mine_ there, true,” he replied. “However, I also have some supplies I had Mazikeen procure for me a couple months ago when you started hanging out. I don’t have a need usually for human remedies, but I thought it might be good to have medicine here in case you ever required it.” Lucifer slipped back from behind his bar and sat down next to her. He frowned down at the slick surface of the metal box. His claws were terrible with plastic and thin tins. If he tried, he’d shred it. “Do give us a hand, urchin.”

She smiled at him slowly, even if that false brightness hurt her cheeks. Then, she felt her grin grow more genuine. “Oh, thank G…uh, _you_. I really could use some Excedrin.”

He chuckled even as she took the meds and swallowed them with a bottle of water she’d left strung out on his coffee table earlier that evening. “I assure you, child. My father had nothing to do with that, and He’s never been one for the small details at either rate.” He set the first aid kit on the sofa cushion to his right and frowned again at her, red eyes gone vaguely dim. “Are you really sure? We can always try and practice any powers tomorrow. You really do look kind of pale.”

“I’m fine. The Excedrin should kick right in. Besides, I’m going to get to fly and not when I’m either passed out from blood loss or worse, when your brother is going like all the speed with me.”

The eyes brightened and flared flame red at that. “Michael has very little understanding how humans work.”  
  


“Oh, believe me. I’m currently homeless because of that.” She smirked at him as they ambled out to the balcony.

It was getting close to midnight and the revelers in the Quarter were mostly too busy to look up. The few who did just hollered up at the “star” of _Tenebrae’s show,_ one or two snapping photos with their phones, probably just to up their Insta cred. Since the Devil theme was so persistent, Lucifer was expected…or in other words, no one was freaking out. It didn’t escape Trixie’s notice, however, that even with the bit of attention he drew to himself, Luci seemed to shrink under the tourists’ appraisal. His wings drooped a bit, and she wasn’t even sure he’d realized it.

She set a gentle palm on the back of his hand. The skin there was dry and rough, but nothing felt cracked, and Trixie took a small bit of comfort in the knowledge he’d healed up since the vamp nest stuff over the weekend. “So, I learned the hard way that if you fly as fast as you can? I’m _totally_ gonna ralph. So, maybe not Devil Mach 10. Something that won’t leave my stomach in the Quarter while the rest of me is wherever you’ve chosen to sneak me too.”

Lucifer nodded and brightened a little bit at that, the mischief and light lancing back into his eyes. “Ooh, almost forgot. One sec, spawn.”

  
He turned back into his apartment and rummaged around by his piano. Lucifer pulled out a small canvas bag and then slipped back through the half-open velour curtains and onto the balcony. “Juggling balls. I did promise, after all. You hold the bag tightly, and I’ll take care of keeping you close, urchin. You’ll be safe with me.”

She arched an eyebrow up at him. “I don’t doubt that, uh, mostly. But if you drop me, I’m going to be pissed!”

“I would never drop you! I’m a very competent Devil.” He sniffed, handing her the bag. She gripped it tightly and then waited for him to open up his arms, palms flat and claws held as level as possible. “Now, I can just ask you to walk instead, offspring, if you’re going to doubt my prowess.”

She smirked. “I dunno. I have seen you land lately. You might squish me on the ground that way.”

He quirked his head at her and regarded her solemnly. “Beatrice, I would cut off my own arm before letting harm come to you. Now, you ungrateful spawn, all aboard or I won’t practice with you at all.”  
  


Trixie made a show of rolling her eyes before letting him sweep her up in his arms. He was tentative at first with his grip, and she understood he was always honestly fearful of cutting into her with his claws. But he’d taken her places before, often under a lot of stress (dumb leeches), and she wasn’t scared. Just a little nervous that awake she might get nauseated flying again. Luci pulled her close to him and tightened his grip, especially as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She had a feeling being circled by the jaws of life would have more give. She settled her cheek against his chest, hesitant at first because the furrows and divots from his scars were so deep. She wasn’t sure if it hurt him---if she could just by nullifying his invulnerability and letting his burns feel more apparent than when she wasn’t around.

But if he felt poorly or worse because of her, Lucifer didn’t show it.

“Alright, child. I don’t necessarily recommend keeping your eyes opened wide because I still will pick up speed to an extent…and we should get you some goggles come to think of it.”

“Great, I’ll Amazon that tomorrow.”

“Anyway, please give us a bit of cover, would you?”

She nodded, still marveling at how warm the dry, twisted skin beneath her felt. “Sure, a bit of Enochian coming up.”

She uttered the incantation as she had every day since Azrael had given it to her. A flash of electricity, like an extra jolt of static worked its way up her back, and she knew that the invisibility had taken effect.

Lucifer clucked a bit and grimaced. “We are going to have to work on your accent. It’s appalling.”

“Maybe, but it still works. Now, let’s get to practicing, Old Scratch.”

This was the second time she’d been awake for flying. The first time, Michael, the idiot, had gone so fast she’d felt like she’d been strapped to a rocket. She’d spent the whole flight with the sights blurring past her and chewing back the intense need to hurl. Trixie had barely won that battle when she’d ended up ralphing anyway, at least at his place. Lucifer was at least going more slowly. She was pretty sure it was because she’d bitched about her terrible flight with his twin enough for Lucifer to adjust accordingly. That and to be honest, Lucifer was a bit of a prima donna about everything. If she ended up puking on him, he’d never forgive her. So, it was just better all around that as she clung tightly to his neck and made sure her arms were just resting on the spikes in his back, that he go slowly enough for her not to get sick.

Besides, with the incantation in place as long as Lucifer didn’t literally run into some bird or drone or whatever in the air and make a sound, no one below would notice them anyway.

It took a few moments even then for Trixie to work up the courage to look around. Intellectually, she knew that Lucifer had carried her more than once in flight and not dropped her. It was something else to be able to focus on the ground at least a couple hundred feet below them as he flapped his way lazily through the Quarter and out toward the industrial part of the city. The breeze kicked up around her, and she was glad she’d pulled her hair back but her instincts about finding some goggles soon were well-founded. Occasionally she had to blink back at dust and wind pounding at her eyes.

But the view was peaceful and the ride oddly quiet. She’d expected Lucifer to have talked more. He _always_ talked. It was kind of his thing, but for now he seemed silent, the only sound between them the powerful flaps of his wings, so like the sound of sails being caught and snapped by the wind, and the steady in and out of both their breaths.

The lights twinkled beneath them and the humans below on the streets still at this time of night didn’t exactly look like ants, but they were tiny, maybe like toy soldiers or lego people in a way. It was a dizzying perspective.

She gripped his neck tighter and said, “The view’s really cool.”

He nodded. “Concentrating here, urchin. Give us a minute.”

Trixie stilled. “Wait, you had this with me before!”  
  


“I was going a fair tick faster then, and it was more instinct. Truth be told while of course I’d never drop you, I’m not completely accustomed to using these blasted things. They have none of the finesse of real wings if you ask me. I should have thought better about going at nighttime, no real thermals or updrafts to catch either. Such an overrated amount of flapping.”

“Sorry?” she offered. “But, seriously, if you drop me, we’re not friends anymore, and I will haunt you from the afterlife.”

“I’m not going to drop you,” he grumbled as he banked a bit toward the port. “Honestly, child, I just am unused to the effort. I’ll be rather sore in the morning until you leave for whatever it is you do.”

“School? Very important, lots of studying.”

“Yes, quite. Anyway, I would never drop you.”

“Fine,” she said, still grabbing him as tightly as she could. He might survive if he lost altitude, but if she smashed into the ground from two hundred feet up, well, there’d be one less miracle in the world for sure. “Maybe that spoils the view a little.”

“True, but it’s always been lovely. Flying. I never got to do it enough when I’d go on holiday to earth and for a while back in Los Angeles, I’d cut the real ones off.”

Trixie wanted to argue that the ones he had now were real. If they could get them airborne, clearly the bat ones counted, but she figured that might not make him feel any better about them. Then, she frowned, finally processing the words.

“You what?”

“Are you hard of hearing, urchin? I cut them off maybe, oh, sixteen years back. Didn’t want my father to control me---what a futile hope that was. However, they were gone for a couple years, then they grew back. The white, fluffy ones like my brother’s. Of course, after the loft shootout and everything that happened, they didn’t stay.”

“You. Cut. Them. Off.”

He sighed and dipped lower as they passed by ships and barges by the port and made their way to a far pier. “Again, are you deaf? Yes, of course I did. Well, first time Maze did it, but I asked her to. That year your mother met Cain, they kept _growing_ back, and Maze made me do it myself.”

_Repeatedly._

Trixie felt nauseated as Lucifer swept in for a landing, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the flight. Honestly, this time the Prince of Darkness stuck the dismount and didn’t even wobble on his feet, just stood still as he let her hop to her feet beside him.

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching his shoulders…well getting as close as she could to the backs of them…to where the wings met the muscles of his shoulder blades. He was so much taller than she, and Trixie had to stand on her tiptoes to reach even that far.

“Urchin, really, those feathered appendages are long gone now. There’s no need to check for them.”

She frowned and wasn’t sure what she was expecting, what she even had a chance of making out in the dim light of the docks. However, all she felt was the same layers of burned, twisted skin. They were warped by the punishment but where the wings met his shoulders, she could feel no deeper furrows or scars.

“You’re okay?”

“Matter of perspective,” Lucifer replied drolly. “The wings didn’t stay gone. Must have cut them off a half dozen time that fall, and then I gave it up. Stubborn buggers. Dad’s will be done and all that.”

She pulled away finally and glared up at him. “You never should have done that.”

He rolled his eyes. King of Hell (kind of) and perpetual adolescent. “Well, you were nine and not in a position to help then, offspring. Also, you sound like Dr. Linda. It had to be done. I didn’t want to be yoked to Father’s wishes.”

She sighed and slipped the bag of juggling balls from her shoulder. Gripping the canvas gave her something tactile to ground her. Otherwise, her mind kept playing over the horrific images of Lucifer alone with one of Maze’s blades doing the insane.

  
“You really do hate leashes, huh?”

He quirked his head at her, and it didn’t quite escape Trixie’s notice that this would have looked like a set up to any horror movie-come-creature feature. Her she was, teenage idiot, alone at the docks in a big city at night with a…well _Lucifer_ sizing her up. It probably should scare some small part of her that the Devil, capital D, was studying her so closely. It didn’t, and it hadn’t since she was seven, but it probably wasn’t all that healthy either.

His eyes were bright as he considered her, and they always reminded her of rubies when they shone like that. “Beatrice, I do not like my choices taken from me. Whether it is because of wings---not matter their beauty---or miracles---no matter how I love you both in your respective ways---it’s about the games my father continues to play. It was never about you. Never could be.”

“I’m sorry He made us,” she said, her voice small and barely croaking out.

She wasn’t sorry to be alive, thank you very much. Nor was she suicidal. At the same time, Trixie knew exactly how much the miracles had cost her friend, what he’d lost to protect her and her mom, and she wished it hadn’t been that way.

Lucifer shook his head and set his hands on her shoulders. “Never say that.”

“It’s true, you know?” she said, stepping back and walking to the edge of the pier. She sat down and crossed her legs in front of her. The water came up so close that if she’d dangled her legs, her shoes would have been soaked. “I don’t like that the only reason I exist is to fuck with you. I mean, it’s kind of messed up that I’m the literal incarnation of the pissing match between Satan and his dad.”

“You put quite a fine point on things, urchin,” Lucifer replied, coming to sit beside her. He did let his legs dangle, and she figured it was the stressful turn of their conversation that had him from complaining. After all, the water came up far enough to cover his feet and then his slacks up past the calves. “I’m not sorry.”

“But you were mad before.”

Lucifer laughed, and it hurt to hear it. “Child, I am _always_ mad at my father. I was mad at him before your lot had evolved from apes. It’s the way of it.” His expression softened as he bumped his shoulder delicately against her own. “I hate his games, but I could never regret the result of them being you or your mother.” He looked away from her and out to the darkness of the ocean. “I wonder what the others were like. If they were anything like the Decker women, they must have been quite special. I am sorry for what befell them. It wasn’t fair.”

Trixie shivered and before she realized it, brought her hand to her neck and the scars Esmée had left there. “No, it’s really not.”

Lucifer wrapped his left arm and wing around her. She always liked that. Trixie couldn’t help it. Her friend might loathe his wings, and she could understand why of course, but they kept her warm in the chilly nights. They’d saved her life at least three different times. Like his eyes, she saw the beauty in them even when he couldn’t.

“Nothing will happen to you. I promise, and I don’t lie.”

She nodded but didn’t speak for a while.

Lucifer didn’t lie, but he couldn’t predict the future, and there were other things out there far worse than old vampires and their nests. He could try, but even he might fail.

“I know you promise,” she replied. “I…maybe Michael knows what some of their powers were. I should ask him next time I see him. He’s, uh, not very helpful.”

“Warned you on that,” Lucifer said, smirking a little beside her. “Angels don’t spend time with humans. It’s not forbidden. They just never saw the point. I did, but I’d Fallen by then. Azrael of course likes them now or, well, she seems fond of you and Miss Lopez. But most of my siblings never understood you lot or wanted to learn your ways.”

“If it wasn’t forbidden---”

He sighed. “You liked the view on the way in. I did too, but think about it this way, offspring, angels spend most of their time looking down from the heavens on humans. From that angle, you all do look like nothing more than specs. The lofty angle messes with our…their egos.”

“So,” she said, bumping his shoulder. “You got down in the dirt with us, and that’s why you think we’re cool?”

“I’ve gotten down in so many things, child, and those are stories you’ll never hear.”

“Good, could not deal if I did, Satan. I just…it sucks thinking you have an expiration date on you and not necessarily in the good, old lady dying at like one hundred at the end of _Titanic_ way either.”

Lucifer held her tighter. “I said that---”

“I know, and I know you and Maze will try really hard, but the other miracles didn’t get to live long.”

“They never actually met me.”

She nodded and forced a smile for him. “Yeah, so I hope they did something cool, at least. I _hope_ some day I do. My power is taking its sweet time to show up, you know?”

He released her then, pulling his arm into his lap and his wing tightly to his back. “First of all, double-edged sword that. You do whatever it is dear old dad designed you for and then all manner of nasties come looking for you. Honestly, if it took five or ten extra years, are you in that much of a rush?”

“Yes, because things find me now, and I want to carry my own weight. I can’t just rely on you and Maze to save me forever.”

Lucifer glared at her, eyes bright. “But you’re _human_ , mostly. It only makes sense that Hell’s best torture and very much retired king would be better in a fight than you.”

“Sure, but I want to be good at a fight too. Maze and Taka…even you, you all can train me forever to throw knives or whatever, but I’ll always be outclassed. I only didn’t get killed by Esmée cause she thought she’d won already and got sloppy.”

“No, you won because you’d listened to Mazikeen’s tutelage through the years and knew when to strike, understood how _never_ to let your own guard down. You won because you were good.”

“And in a fair fight with a demon or a vampire or some warlock who _is_ paying attention, my ass would be grass, so I just wish I could figure this out.”

Lucifer shrugged. “As someone who spent the better part of a year fervently wishing his wings away and then getting the worst version of a monkey’s paw reward, I should add, urchin, that you must be careful what you wish for. Or at least very specific.”

“One day, you know, we have to have a super serious conversation about the self-mutilation thing, Luci. That was never okay.”

“It had to be done.”

She frowned up at him and tried to keep the tears back. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“Have you ever sawed off your leg? It’s a bit like that, I’d wager. So, yes, it was excruciating each time.”

“Man, you really hate your dad.”

“Yup.”

She pushed a hand through her long, dark hair. “Luci, I’m serious---”

“And I thought we were working on finding your power, much as the idea makes me nervous. I am still a devil of my word, and I promised to help you tonight. So, should I start juggling or should you?”

“About the wings---”

His eyes went so bright she had to look away. “Beatrice, I don’t want to stalk about it. Ever really. Please drop it.”

“You won’t try with anything else, will you?”

He sighed and drummed the claws of his right hand against the wood of the pier. “There’s no point. Maze and I tried a few times with the spikes. I can’t feel anything with them, and you saw yourself how fast they grow back.”

“Yeah, the one you gave Constantine…it took like a day to be back.”

“Exactly.”

She frowned, her mind jumping to an awful conclusion. “Your bat wings. You tried, didn’t you?”

“Yes, back at _Lux_. It was the last thing we did there. Neither of us thought traveling with them all the way to New Orleans would be feasible. I didn’t want to---and I hope you’re having quite a high old time, Father---but I didn’t want to be shoved into the back of a moving truck like some bloody piece of furniture. So Mazikeen helped.” He shook his head. “At least she tried. Fucking right one grew back before she could even clean up and get ready to do the left.”

That was more than enough. That was…how could he? Reaching up, she strained her arm as far as it could go and slapped him on the cheek. “What the actual fuck, Lucifer?”

His eyes shone brightly, and he gave a bit of a growl. A reflex, she knew the difference now between when he was trying to scare her and put on a display and when he couldn’t help it. “You shouldn’t hit half the Demiurge ever, child. That’s foolish. Goes for Michael too, if you ever get a dumb idea in your head with that. He humors you. _I_ humor you. Doesn’t mean you should get into a habit of insulting those more powerful than you.”

“Sorry, let me do my curtsey later, oh Lord Lucifer,” she snarked. “You can’t…don’t you ever do that again. You hear me?”

“It didn’t work. There wasn’t a point to even try.” He sighed again and waved to himself with his left hand. “This is as it is, and I’ve tried to work with it. I thought complete hermit-inspired solitude was my lot. I can’t say I thought about all the exciting possibilities brought about by skulking in New Orleans’ most abandoned places.”

“There are a lot of them?” she offered meekly.

He nodded and let his wings out behind them, letting the sea breeze hit the thin skin there. “It’s nice to be out, such as it is. You keep dragging me to do things I thought I couldn’t, urchin. It’s bloody annoying.”

“Oh, is it really?” she asked, chuckling a little and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m just so inconvenient.”

“You actually are. I had my whole eternity mapped out without you. You’ve really interrupted a rather full calendar.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “Seriously though, never again, okay? No matter how tempted you get, please don’t cut into yourself.”

He shrugged, his tone flat when he spoke. “Child, if I thought I could actually get these very damned things off my back, I’d grab one of Maze’s blades this instant. They’re…of all the things that changed, they’re the thing I hate second most.”

She reached out tentatively and stroked the soft membrane of his left wing. The light was too dim to see much, but she knew under the fluorescents of his bathroom, the skin was so thin and easy to see through that she could count the individual veins that ran through the webbing. “These saved my life a few times. I think they’re great.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and then curled his wings back against his shoulders tightly. “ _You_ would. You’re rather bent, offspring. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Only the devil himself,” she said. “Now, why are we at the dock late at night? Seriously, we could have gone to Six Flags again. Ooh, I hear there’s this abandoned distillery. How cool, right?”

Lucifer chuckled softly. “Oh, you do know the best places. However, the pool among the Lilim is getting quite tempting, and I did put down ‘Aquaman powers,’ so if you’d like to talk to the fish out there, child, now’s your chance.”

She gaped at him, her jaw wide. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, this time his scarlet eyes were clearly lit up with mirth. “See if you can call a tuna over here. Come now, tempus fugit.”

“I do _not_ have crappy fish powers.”

“Well, you’re not trying, are you?”

“Unbelievable.”

He pointed to the sea with his left hand. “Come on, it probably has some benefits. Somehow.”  
  


“Right, that’s why until he was Jason Mamoa, Aquaman was _no one’s_ favorite.”

Lucifer laughed harder until he almost doubled over. “That, Beatrice, remains a true maxim across all universes.”

She blinked. “Wait, you know?”

“That Dad’s ridiculously busy when he’s bored, of course. All angels know it. Have I been to the other worlds, of course not, no interest in it. Sometimes Azrael brings back stories though. So, like I’ve said, the pool’s tempting. Get on and call those fish, Miracle.”

She huffed and tightened her arms across her chest. “That’s dumb.”

“But you haven’t definitively crossed it off your list, have you?”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

The Devil, the Adversary and Prince of Flies and all that crap, just clapped his hands together and giggled a little. Jerk. “Splendid, urchin. Have at it!”

She leaned forward and braced her hands against the wood of the pier. “Uh, hey fish? What’s up? Can you hear me?”

“That was truly pathetic.”

“Well, you try if you want Aquaman powers.”

“I speak everything _human_ ; I don’t deal in animal communication.”

Trixie shook her head. “Alright, one more time. Hey! Tunas of the sea, wanna talk?”

Nothing happened.

“See, I do _not_ have ‘fish powers.’”

Lucifer shrugged but he was laughing hard, again almost doubled over in his joy. “I suppose not, but that was worth the whole trip.”  
  


“You’re an asshole.”

“No, I’m the Devil,” he chirped.

Trixie grumbled to herself as she slid the bag off her shoulder and then stood. She backed away from him until she got back to actual land. If she lost one of the balls, she’d rather it didn’t end up in the drink, after all. Taking in a deep breath, she started to juggle. She hadn’t used it since that play a few years back, and she was rusty but soon fell into a steady enough rhythm. Trixie stood there, her lip between her teeth, as she stared up in concentration. Eventually, she got up enough speed to keep it going and feel she could talk at the same time.

“Do you want to try too?”

“I have powers, buckets of them.”

She groaned and almost dropped a ball with her frustration. “You know what I meant!”

He stood and walked toward her, stopping a few feet from her but still on the pier. Sighing, he held up his hands, the gnarled fingers and the long claws. “Juggling takes deft precision, good timing, and dexterity. I lack those, and you know it.”

“I could just toss the one back and forth with you.”

“I did not come out here to play catch,” he sulked.

“You came out here,” she said, inhaling sharply as she almost dropped on of the three balls with her right hand. “to make jokes about my miracle abilities with carp.”

“Well, they didn’t come when you called, did they?” he countered.

“And the balls aren’t doing anything anyway. I don’t think I’m Gambit either after all.” She shrugged but managed to keep juggling. “Just humor me, Luci. We’ll go slow, like the piano stuff.”

He muttered under his breath but nodded. She had that way with him. Technically, she shouldn’t ask him for anything because she knew by now Lucifer would say yes and procure it for her, but sometimes it was kind of heady to have Satan wrapped around her little finger.

“As you wish, offspring. Give us a toss, then.”  
  


She nodded and chucked the first ball to him and he was able to deal with getting into rhythm and throwing it back to her as she managed the other three. Soon two were being tossed between them, and Trixie was getting into the flow of it all. The third ball, however, proved to be trouble and Lucifer misjudged the timing, impaling the poor thing on his left claws.

“Fuck.”

She sighed and let the other two balls drop. Then, she swept up to him. “I can get it off. Yeesh, we did go 2/3.”

He shook his head but held out his left hand dutifully so she could free the final ball. “Yes, such skill.”  
  


“Is pouting one of your powers, Luci?”

“I do not pout.”

She decided not to push him, but he’d have convinced her more if he wasn’t pushing out his lower lip so with his frustration. Instead, she focused on freeing the third ball. Wrapping her hands around it, she gave it a firm tug, but it only slid up his claws a little.

“Oh crap.”

“What?”

“Okay, so don’t get mad.”

“I’m not mad; I’m annoyed. It’s different.” His eyes grew bright. “Trust me, urchin, you’ll know when I’m mad.”

Oh boy did she.

Licking her lower lip she grabbed the ball harder and tried again. It didn’t even slide this time. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little stuck.”

“Beatrice!”

“Here, just bend your right knee a little. I’m going to need some leverage, okay?”

“Very well, please just get this over with.”

“Hey, still not as humiliating as trying to talk to fish who, of course, were never gonna freaking listen,” she said. This time she braced her left foot against his knee and pulled at the juggling ball with all her might. It slid off fast this time, throwing her off balance and stumbling until she neared the left edge of the pier. Trixie swayed and gulped as she almost made a splash into the water. Turning around, she edged back toward the solid flats of the pier. “So, that was close---”

Before slipping on a puddle and splashing ass first into the Mighty Mississippi.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael helps Lucifer fish Trixie out of the Mississippi, and she asks him for help asking the other miracles about their powers.

**Chapter Four**

Trixie yawned and rolled onto her side. Her headache, while better than it had been most of the night, was still a full throbbing in her skull. It had been a long night at the library even before heading out with her devil to ugh talk to fish, juggle, and apparently not develop any superpowers. Maybe Luci was right after all.

Maybe Amenadiel had screwed up the blessing, and she was a dud as far as miracles went. 

Reaching out, she grasped for her blanket, and her hands stilled over something incredible soft and fluffy. And warm. Despite her headache, Trixie decided the better part of valor was to open her eyes. Odds were Lucifer had had one of the Lilim get her an electric blanket or something just to be extra. Sure, electric blanket. Made perfect sense to use in Louisiana in near-April.

She blinked fully awake and was met with a blanket of shining white feathers. Confused, she bolted up or tried to. She didn't get far being pinned down by one heavy archangel wing and one bat one that she'd finally noticed was over her left shoulder. 

Wait...how had she gotten home again?

Last thing she remembered was falling into the Mississippi River.

She tried again to sit up. Turning to her left to frown at Lucifer, she waited to speak until he pressed pause on the TV.

"Okay, I think I missed a few things." She eyed Michael over to her right. He hadn't bothered to move his wing and damn if his wasn't twice as heavy easily as Luci's. Had to be all those massive feathers. "What happened?"

Lucifer quirked his head at her. "I think we all learned a few things today, urchin. First, I can't swim, and you passed out with hypothermia fairly quickly while being swept upriver. Second, on the plus side, my brother is actually listening to prayers and not on a six-day delay. Bully for him."

Michael sat up but kept his wing where it was, mirroring his twin's position at her left. "After I pulled you out, well, you were very cold, Miracle. So, we brought you home and got you changed---"

She pushed against the wall of feathers to her right. They might be gorgeous, but if the Sword of God and her idiot devil were trying to tell her she was like in her underwear beneath their wings, well, hypothermia be damned, Trixie was going to be pissed.

"Dude! Let me up!"

Michael tilted his head toward her, the movement as sharp and stilted as any bird of prey. "You're still shivering."

"Oh, for the love of..." She just caught herself before upsetting both brothers. Michael probably wasn't big on blasphemy, and Lucifer took any mention of his dad as a chance to complain. _A lot._ Instead, she focused back on Luci. "I'm fine. Let me up, please. I swear, I better be clothed here, or I'm going to murder you both."

Michael shrugged his shoulders, and his wings were gone as seamlessly as they'd been at the Omega Chi house. "I'm immortal and invulnerable. You could not harm me." He frowned, seeming to puzzle out her threat more deeply. "I suppose you could send Sammy below for a day or two since he's not invulnerable around you, but there's no reason to be mad."

She sighed and eyed herself. It wasn't that they would have cared if she were stripped out of her muddy jeans and sweater. Hardly. Lucifer was a total step-devil, for lack of a better term, and sometimes was stricter with her than Dad. And Michael? Dude was a little like an alien. He probably thought about humans the same way she did Beelz. Still, she breathed a small sigh of relief to find herself in her favorite pair of Tulane sweat pants and one of her Dad's huge Austin PD hoodies she'd stolen years ago.

She glared at Michael. "Did you re-dress me?"

His brow furrowed deeper and he hesitated before eyeing Luci for a hint. Lucifer, for his part, seemed happy enough not to give one. Shaking his head, Michael spoke. "Samael helped get the muddy clothes off." He paused then. "I guess claws come in handy sometimes."

Lucifer's eyes grew brighter. "Rarely, but I'll spare you the embarrassment, offspring. Michael was on the balcony then, and Taka helped me. She’s the one who got you sorted with fresh clothes. Claws might make fast work of wet denim, but they falter with delicate work." He snickered a bit. "Besides, I know Decker women well enough not to tempt their wrath. Taka took care of you and then had to tend bar; Mazikeen is on a local bounty hunt tonight. We were indisposed, and our wings, especially Mikey's, are exceptionally warm. We decided it was the fastest way to heat you back up."

She flopped back on the sofa and started to rake a hand through her hair or, at least, Trixie tried. It stopped soon into her rat's nest of mud, leaves, and Lucifer's dad knew what all else.

"Gross."

Luci chuckled again and sat back on the sofa besides her. "Another ruddy thing about claws, can't use a mobile. Would that I could. The blackmail would have been priceless, so many choice pictures."

"You are not my best friend anymore," she groused.

Lucifer's eyes shone brightly. "I could have left you floating out to sea, urchin."

Michael sighed. "But he wouldn't have. Sammy was very panicked in his prayers. I think we worked fast though. Besides, why does it matter so much about how one looks? You’re safe, and that should be what matters. After all, vanity is a sin."

Luci rolled his eyes. "Mikey's very good at pointing those out. I was trying to explain to him what your parents do for a living and show him, after a fashion, what I once did in L.A. But someone is a buzzkill for the telly. Points out every five sodding seconds when a character onscreen sinned." He snorted his derision. "Newsflash, Brother, I know all the sins. Done most of them too."

Michael leaned against the sofa but didn't sit back down. "The program was pretty good. I don't have a TV."

Trixie laughed a little. Michael's apartment would have to aspire to be Spartan. Of course, he didn't have one. "I know." She looked at Luci's frozen screen and groaned. Again. Unreal. "You know, Satan, not much of what you and my parents did was the same as _Bones_."

He shrugged. "It exactly was, well except your mother was Booth, of course. At best, your father might be Hodgens, and I was an excellently quirky consultant."

"I'm pretty sure Bones never juggled breast implants at a crime scene," she countered.

Beside her, Michael leaned closer and frowned. "I don't understand."

"Huh?" She asked. 

"What are implants?" Michael asked.

Trixie laughed and glared back at Lucifer. "Are you sure you two are related?"

"I ask myself that query often," Luci grumbled. "Yes, well, I said the Silver City was sheltered and dull. Brother, human medicine has advanced to where if humans aren't gifted by dear old Dad with the proportions they want, then the friendly neighborhood surgeon is more than happy to oblige."

"Huh?" the archangel said.

And poor Michael's face was so scrunched then in confusion that Trixie felt a bit sorry for him.

"Fake boobs. An implant is this silicone---" Trixie started.

"Saline is en vogue now, child, far safer." Luci added unhelpfully.

"Anyway, it's an artificial substance put in under the skin to make a flatter person bigger around the boobs, but they have stuff for pecs and calves and all over."

Michael said something quick and terse in what had to be Enochian. Beside her Lucifer rolled his eyes. Then Michael bothered to switch back to English. "Humans voluntarily let a doctor cut into them, put in fake gels, and get stitched back up to look better all because they're not pleased with Father's gifts?"

"If it makes them happier, then I see no harm in it. I feel some surgeons in the Valley are doing Dad's work for him, really," Lucifer said.

"Humans are confusing." He quirked his head at her, eyes narrowing over her hoodie. "Did you have that done too?"

Trixie groaned. "Dude, not appropriate. Second, so no. I don't want to, and even if I had wanted to, it would give Dad a heart attack. And," thinking better of the opening she'd provided him, she clamped a hand over Luci's mouth before he could play peanut gallery. "don't even breathe a word. I know you somehow want to work _Hot Tub High School_ into this. Don't or I'll sick Maze on you."

Lucifer mumbled to himself but let her keep him muzzled. 

"Hot Tub what now?" Michael asked.

"The worst movie ever made," she said. 

Lucifer bolted up and stretched his arms out wide at his sides. "How dare you! It's a cinematic masterpiece."

She set her hands on her hips. "It was a bad _American Pie_ rip off that ruined my middle school years. It's crap."

"I'm lost," Michael replied.

"One of my mom's few theatrical movies before she became a cop. Do _not_ look it up. But, uh, Mom never enhanced anything, and I'm pretty happy how I am. I do think grandma did get herself fixed up before she made the vampire queen movie series, but she's always been pretty coy about it like she is about the Botox. Cool, do whatever. It's just not my thing."

"And Botox is?" Michael asked.

"Oh, you'll find this one fascinating, Mikey. Do you remember Botulism?" Lucifer asked.

He nodded. "Raphael dealt with it a bit in the Middle Ages if I recall. Nasty way to die, bacteria or something like it."

"Well, it also freezes wrinkles, so humans inject into their faces to paralyze them. It’s rather popular around town, as you might imagine. All those shows filming in HD,” Lucifer added.

He said something again in Enochian and sighed. Checking his watch, Michael then looked toward the balcony. "Perhaps, I will never understand humans, trying to augment Father’s gifts so, having no respect for what they were given. Anyway, I have an early meeting with a cherub in Santiago, Chile so I should go. I did like _Bones_ though. In fact, I'd like to see it again."

Trixie set her head in her hands. "Two. Of. You. Ugh, watching these twelve seasons over and over is my hell loop."

" _Thirty-two_ ," Lucifer said, tone clipped.

"What's thirty-two?" She asked Luci, who'd made his way to his bar and was pouring himself a drink. 

"How many times I watched part of _Frozen_ with you or overheard it from your room while doing work at your home with the Detective. Thirty-two times, urchin. Don't get high and mighty on _Bones_ now."

"You can't hold that against me," she argued. "I was like nine tops, and you're like 13 billion." No, she wouldn't focus too hard on that part. If she thought too hard about how ancient the Lilim and (sometimes former) angels truly were, it would make her mind go all blue screen of death. "You should have better taste, something refined in your advanced age."

"First, how dare you. Second, I have excellent taste. Clearly, you're the Philistine," Lucifer said.

"Oh, I know who they were," Michael butted in. He shook his head again as he slipped toward Luci's extravagant (what else really) violet curtain. "Humans are so confusing. I don't understand why they'd cut into themselves or even poison their muscles. It's unfathomable."

Luci drained his Scotch thoughtfully. "Because humans aren't that different from angels. Let's be honest, Dad is only so creative with his base designs. We're all social by nature. Humans go through all these great lengths to fit in. To be beautiful." He shrugged and grew quiet. "Angels have many flaws, but you lot have never worried about ugliness, at least not superficially speaking."

“That shouldn’t matter, not enough to mar Father’s gifts or to mess with bacteria and whatever else,” Michael countered.

Lucifer regarded his brother quietly, and his wings drooped low. “You wouldn’t understand, never exactly been one to be on the outside looking in, have you, Mikey?” His hand hesitated over the bottle, and he seemed to finally think better of it and didn’t pick it up. Lucifer glanced at the clock on her alcove dresser and shrugged. "It's drawing too late even for Old Scratch. Brother, thank you. I shall be more careful with Beatrice in the future. Still, ta ever so for the assist."

Michael nodded. "Yes, that would be best not to lose her in the Mississippi River."

“I’m standing right here! It was just a mistake,” she replied. “I’m not like some stray puppy.”

Luci’s wings twitched a bit, and despite his change in mood, he chuckled warmly. “It depends on your perspective, urchin. Then, he turned to head up the stairs to his quarters. "Beatrice, you should get more rest. My bird brain of a twin can see himself out." With that, the devil proceeded up the stairwell.

She wanted to follow him because somehow his teasing her about that movie had faded and grown somber, but she also had a favor to ask of Michael first. So, she followed him out to the balcony. His wings were already out---taken no more seriously by the drunk revelers below than the occasional glimpses of Lucifer---and she gulped at their beauty. Maybe one day she'd get a chance to properly appreciate them. Just not now.

"Do other humans really go all cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs when they see angel wings?"

Michael nodded, and his wings fluffed up a bit. Perhaps Luci wasn't the only half of the Demiurge whose sin was pride, after all. "Yes. You are by nature an infinitesimal fraction _divine_. It doesn't affect you. Your father...if he saw my wings like this, he'd be on his knees for days, half coherent."

"Oh."

He sighed. "I had to put them away at the sorority house. If any human sees them, they risk having their mind shatter."

"Kind of like the inverse of what Luci can do, huh?"

"In its way. Truly awesome divine artifacts are as overwhelming to the human mind as the infernal, yes. And my wings most of all."

"His too?"

"Before Father's latest punishment, yes. Because we're archangels but also the Demiurge. No other members of the host have pure white wings. Ask Azrael if you doubt my word."

She shook her head and leaned against the railing. "I don't. You don't lie either."

"I do not. It would be a sin."

"True," she said. Odd how Rae Rae didn't feel that way. Amenadiel must not have either because there was no way he'd ever told her parents anything true. "I'm still trying to fix it, you know. Fix him."

Michael glanced back to the apartment. "And I want you to, but I can't hope for it. I know Father and his safeguards better than anyone else. I wish better for Samael, truly I do. I just don't dare to dream it can be that way."

"I'm a miracle," she said simply, desperate to convey more power than she felt. "I have to be good for something."

Michael twitched his feathers a bit. "I sincerely hope so, Trixie."

"I...why does your Dad hate Luci so much? I mean, humans have free will. Why can't angels?"

"It isn't Dad's design, so it isn't my place to question."

"Because you're scared."

His wings twitched again, a few of the longest feathers seeming to grow sharp like blades before her eyes. "No, because I'm loyal. I love my brother. I'm sure he'd never believe that, but I do. But Samael knew the rules."

She shook her head and swiped angrily at her eyes. "I don't care what I did. Even if I like murdered eighty nuns in front of my dad wouldn't turn around and set me on fire. He wouldn't do something to me so awful I couldn't ever really be near people again. A real father wouldn't!"

Michael nodded and looked out on Bourbon Street below. "Perhaps, Miracle, Daniel Espinoza is a better father than mine. Some days, especially lately, I'm not even sure anymore."

She reached up and straightened his wire rim glasses, those gone askew over his prominent nose. "It's something at least that you can admit that much."

"I...thoughts like that are dangerous, but sometimes they feel true. I'm trying to keep what's left of my family together, which means I'm trying to keep the multiverse intact too. Mostly, even with Gabriel and Raphael to help, I feel like I'm drowning."

She drew her hand back and pushed her tangled hair from her eyes. "I’m sorry God did that to you guys too. It’s not fair at all. My dad wouldn't have just fucked off and named me a detective out of nowhere either and with zilch training."

"Perhaps I'd have liked being raised by your father better."

"Maybe, but you'd have a lot of improv shows. He's not perfect, _at all_. But he never took things out on me either. I don't get your dad even a little bit."

His wings twitched again. "Father is inscrutable."

"I'll say. What a fucking weird game to play, making miracles for four thousand years and hoping to use us as leverage to make Luci be the bad guy, no questions asked. It's not fair. No one even asked us if we wanted to be thrown into the middle of this."

"Trixie---"

She wiped at her eyes again. "I'm fine, but I can't imagine what it was like for the miracles who weren't as lucky as me or Mom. I...they were bad deaths, weren't they?"

"It's better if you don't ask as I can't sugarcoat it for you. I won't."

She chuckled bitterly. "You and Luci are so alike, and I don't think either of you see that. But that's okay. I was taken hostage by a crazy man at seven and almost died. I've seen so many ugly things. I just...it was bad for them."

"Yes," Michael said, looking down at his hands. "And I'm as guilty as Father. I made you, well minus you and your mother. Now though, I'm trying to protect you both, but the other miracles did not have good ends. They were hunted by witches and warlocks for their blood, a delicacy for vampires to feast on, and at best, ostracized by normal humans for their powers."

She shouldn't ask, but she had to know. "And what was worse?"

"Put to death, sometimes burned at the stake for being in league with the devil."

"But they weren't," she said, her voice low. "If they actually had been hanging with Luci, they'd have been safer."

Brown eyes, familiar yet not quite, regarded her own. "Yes."

"Do you know what their abilities were?"

"They were different; sometimes gifts repeated even among the hundred or so who came before your line. I don't know the exact specs."

She took in a ragged breath at that. _Specs_. Right. She'd been created to order, only a little different from a damn leash from Petco. "Can you talk to some? Do research for me? I don't know what I do yet, but I want a clue." She'd been able to stay calm this far, but her headache and exhaustion and impromptu swim were weighing on her. Had been weighing on her for too long. Her voice broke when she added, "I don't want to die."

Michael turned and regarded her, his great wings flaring out behind him. "Well, all humans do in time, and you are still very much that. But you have Lucifer and Mazikeen and the Lilim. My sister and I are trying too to help you as we can. If all of us have any say in it, you'll be very old by human standards before your time comes."

She sighed and felt the tears streak down her cheeks. 

"If you can't, I...I'll know Luci and Maze tried their hardest, you know?"

"It would be best not to speak that way. If you plan to win a battle, you must approach it assuming you'll triumph."

"And I'm nineteen and almost been eaten like three times this semester. I just...please try and talk to the other miracles. I have to figure out what I do. I _need_ to."

Resolute, he nodded and stuck his chin up. "I'll do my best, Trixie Espinoza. You have my word."

"Can you promise me something else?"

His curls ruffled in the breeze as he studied her, and despite everything, she couldn't help but wonder if Luci, back when he'd been Samael, had looked that way too. It was hard to think of the Devil ever looking quite as innocent or untouched by sorrow.

"I'm not sure. Angels can't break vows. It's almost as big a rule for us as never killing humans."

She swallowed. "I...if anything happens to me---"

"It won't."

"If it did, though, would you promise to look after him? He's so lonely, and I love Maze, I do. And they're friends---weird friends but still---he needs more than just her. Plus, the Lilim are more subjects than friends. And Lucifer needs to much more; he needs a family."

Michael stiffened and waited a long time before he spoke. "I would try, but I cannot promise anything, Trixie. If Father came back and gave a new order---"

She threw her hands up at her sides. "Right. What God wants, gotcha. Don't even bother then. It would be a waste of breath because it'll always be your dad first and then kicking...no _stabbing_ him the face. Your dad says "jump," and you flap as high as you can, no questions asked."

Michael's eyes seemed to glow, a fierce golden light filling them and when he Spoke, the balcony shook. "Enough, Miracle. You presume too much. To understand what you cannot, to understand the workings of the Host." He took a deep breath, and his eyes were brown again and the balcony no longer shook. "I protect you. Truly, I even like you. You're interesting for a human."

"I...thanks," she said, tone grouchy but some of the fight leeched from her. Almost falling on her ass in a mini-angelquake would do that to a girl.

"But you are mortal, and these are not your affairs."

She stabbed a finger towards him as she spoke but didn't dare touch him. Even Trixie could tell when she'd pushed too far. Sometimes at least. “They are though. Amenadiel blessed my grandma cause your dad said so. I’m just part of yet another divine order, so I’m in this and it _is_ my business. It’s okay, though, if you’re a chicken. I mean, Luci lasted eons without you or me, so I bet then Maze...if something really bad happens to me, then she's got it handled."

"I cannot disobey Father."

She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. "Then, you'll never be a good brother because you'll treat all your siblings conditionally and only as well as your dad says and not the way you really want to treat them.” She shook her head and pushed her hands through the chunks of mud in her hair, dislodging a few to the balcony floor. “G…fuck, I'm sorry I even tried."

Michael frowned, worry seeming to creep into his deceptively gentle gaze. "Miracle---"

"'Trixie, God damn it! I have a name. I don't go around calling you 'Archangel,' do I?"

Michael nodded and started again. "I apologize. Trixie then, I'm sorry, but you have to understand how it is. I can't say no to Father."

"No, you _won’t_. That’s different. I mean, would you ever say no to Him. You have to know that sometimes what He wants is wrong, don’t you?"

"But Father is the Law. What he desires is always right."

"Like when you made the rest of the miracles and left them to die?"

It was a low blow, and she knew it, but Michael had an awful lot of blood on his hands, millennia’s worth even. 

His wings drooped, and he looked at his feet. "That was a bad choice on my part. But Father...He has a plan."

"And you won't ever really break it, will you?"

"I can't!" He Shouted, and this time it felt as if the whole third floor of _Tenebrae_ shook with his frustration and confusion. No one had ever asked the angels this, at least not since Luci, and they could all write him off as the black sheep and ignore uncomfortable questions. "I...if I disobey, Father will do the same to me or worse. The other Fallen are even more fearsome, Trixie, and I won't let that happen to me."

She glared back at him when she spoke. “Don’t mince words now, dude. Say what you’re really thinking. The Fallen are deformed and humiliated. That’s what your father wanted for them. And especially for Luci."

"What?"

"That's what you mean when you say ‘fearsome,’ Michael. You’re using a euphemism. Just call it what it is---the worst things your dad could pull to make maximum isolation the only option. _That's_ what's happened to Lucifer. And you won't even promise to keep him company because it might happen to you too. I...just go! I'll never ask more than information from you again."

Michael’s wings flared out behind him, seeming to double in size in his anger. "Samael killed a human. He did this to himself. I'd never stoop so low."

Trixie shook her head and gestured toward the empty street below. "No, you just set up well over a hundred people over the centuries to be tortured and torn apart because you _cursed_ them."

"How dare you! I blessed them, gave them the gifts my father saw fit to bestow upon them. You're blessed, Miracle, and don’t forget that. You know very well what the difference looks like now between curses and providence."

She turned her attention from the street and started to pace. "I know a curse is in the eye of the victim, and you’ve caused more humans to die than Lucifer ever has. He killed Cain to save at least four lives. You made miracles and left us to die to please your dad. So, sure, who's the murderer here?"

His eyes grew gold again and his plumage fluffed up more. "You're tired, and you speak out of turn. I’ll consult with other miracles and bring you my research as soon as possible. Perhaps you don’t think much of me, but I do keep my vows."

She stilled and gave a small snort. “Maybe that’s your actual problem.” Then, Trixie sighed and patted his shoulder, trying to offer a small bit of reconciliation between them. They needed to be unified as a group if they were ever going to figure out her powers or how to help Lucifer, if they were to stop anything _worse_ coming for her blood. "I...thank you, though. I do appreciate the research."

He shook his head, and his eyes were so bright she had to look away. It was almost but not quite as bad as looking at the sun. 

"It is part of my mission and my duty. I take those seriously; I always do. But don't presume to know me either, Trixie Espinoza. You can’t fathom all I've suffered or what I feel. You don't know me at all."

She dropped her hand and swiped at the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “Maybe that’s best, because I don’t think I really want to. Now shoo! You're taking up too much space on my balcony."

Okay, so her politeness for Team Celestial only went so far.

Michael's eyes dimmed but were still a terrifying shade of gold, inhuman in a way even Luci’s weren’t, and that set her teeth on edge. 

"I'm still not a pigeon, Miracle. But Samael is right. You don't listen to him because apparently you listen to no one in all your infinite _almost_ twenty years of human wisdom. But you should. You're mouthy and ungrateful, and if He comes back. Father will loathe it."

"I don't care,” she said, setting her hands on her hips.

"You should. There are infinitely worse things He could do to you than He has to any Fallen. My brothers, Gabriel and Raphael, don't have a fraction of His power or my own, not truly, but they won't like you either. I shall do everything in my power to hide you from them as I have with Charlie Martin, but you must learn deference. You just need to have _prudent_ judgment for once. One day, Miracle, that mouth of yours will get you into trouble so deep even the Demiurge can't save you. And for Samael's sake, I would hate for that to happen."

"Like you care about your twin like at all! Or me either."

Michael eased to the edge of the balcony and stretched out his wings to take flight. They were as gorgeous as ever, but currently the very sight of them was turning Trixie's stomach. 

He eyed her one last time, eyes dimming to brown. And for a small moment, she almost could believe he was like a human, that he could feel more than piety and self-righteousness. The archangel just seemed so sad.

And ancient.

He paused long enough to set a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t lie. I do like you, and I do care.”

  
“Cause I’m interesting, ‘for a human,’” she added, pulling away and making her point with finger quotes as she spoke.”

He quirked his head at her, so stiffly, so much more like a raptor than anything approaching a man. “No, not just for a human, perhaps. You’re interesting genuinely but young and foolish. You take risks you shouldn’t, and one day that will end very badly for you. And for Samael.”

“Sure, because you’re also so worried about him, right?”

Michael shook his head and flexed his wings, getting his feathers in line to take off. “I am. Like I said, you don’t know me as well as you think, Miracle. I do care about my twin; I care so deeply. I begged him for decades, for longer than you've been alive, to just stop asking questions, but he wouldn't. I knew before any of the Host that Samael was planning to go to war. I turned my back on my duty as Father's right hand to beg Sammy to see reason instead of turning him over to Gabriel for trial early. _I tried_. And I grieve for the Samael who was, but his fate won't be my own." He shook his head. "And if you're as bright as you usually seem, you'll learn the humility Sam never did and avoid ruin too."

With that, the Sword of God flapped his great wings and was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer talks down Beatrice who is very frustrated after her argument with Michael.

**Chapter Five**

"What are you doing?"

Lucifer frowned as the door slid open and the spawn regarded him. She hadn't startled him exactly as the Devil did not startle, but he could admit that if he weren't blessed with preternatural grace then he might have dropped the eggs he was carrying across the expanse of the Detective's kitchen.

"I didn't know you were in today, urchin. I was rather hopeful you were at the Dou...with Daniel," Lucifer corrected. 

Not that he gave a toss about his vocabulary. Dearie me, no. However, humans were awfully stuck up on four letter words and which ones eight-year-olds should or shouldn't know. (The offspring was eight by now, wasn't she? Young humans were hard to tell apart in age.) But the Detective was already frustrated with him, and he'd lose any brownie points he was trying to earn with her if he taught Beatrice about the word "douche."

The child shook her head and with that floppy, little alien doll clutched to her side, she struggled up onto one of the stools. 

"It's Thursday," she said.

Lucifer considered this as he rummaged through the Detective's pantry and her collection of veggies. "Is it? I rather thought it was Saturday, though on non-case weeks, well, time at _Lux_ blurs together so."

"Well I go to Daddy's on weekends," the urchin replied, swinging her feet beneath her. "What are you doing here?"

Lucifer decided that in addition to the potatoes he'd brought, he'd use the tomato and green pepper available to add crunch to his culinary fare. Standing up, he came back to the island and started washing the vegetables.

"To be frank, your mother has been cross with me since the hangar, and I thought preparing her some breakfast would please her. You're welcome to have the leftovers of course, child."

Beatrice frowned as he started in on peeling the potatoes. "‘Cross?’ Also, what are you making?"

Oh bother. It was rather twenty questions with this one, wasn't it?

"It means," Lucifer continued concentrating on the knife. After all, with the Detective around, he needed to be careful not to give himself a knick. "...that your mother is mad at me since, well, I got shot. She's annoyed that she can't figure out why I didn't shuffle off this mortal coil."

"Huh?"

"Die," he corrected. Seriously, what were schools teaching human spawn these days? It was never too early for the bard. "I explained it to her, but she doesn't believe me so I thought perhaps some tortillas for breakfast would soothe things over."

The urchin swung her leg hard enough to clunk against the island, and Lucifer held up his index finger.

"Now, offspring, let's not wake your mother, shall we?"

"But Lucifer, this is not how you make tortillas. When I visit Abuela Minnie in Texas, she has a press, and it's so yummy, and the tortillas come out hot." She wrinkled up her nose and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're cutting potatoes."

"A Spanish tortilla is different, a big heartier than an omelet. Would you like to help me wash the rest of the vegetables?" He gave her a look over. "After you disinfect yourself first, of course. Dad knows where that scruffy toy of yours has even been."

"I'm not dirty!"

"You're a child. By definition you are a sticky rapscallion. Get washed, offspring, and help us out."

Beatrice hopped down with some effort and turned on the sink. There was a step stool in a garish yellow she used to reach the water and, after he'd coached her in using Dial twice, the urchin was ready to be his sous chef.

"What can I do again?" She asked.

He handed her the peppers. “Wash these under warm water please and _no_ soap."

She did as she was told though tried to convince him first that she could chop too. Lucifer was rarely around children if he could help it, but he was certain the Detective was the strict type and wouldn't appreciate her spawn being around cutlery. 

"So, why is Mom confused?"

He shrugged and chopped the potatoes into cubes. "She doesn't believe I'm the Devil."

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Of course, you are. Maze is the coolest demon, and you're the Devil. You made that mean girl scream at school, and when Malcolm shot you, you got better. When Mommy got shot, she had to be in the hospital for days! So, duh, you're Satan."

Lucifer chuckled at her enthusiasm. "I prefer 'Lucifer' or possibly 'Old Scratch,' but I'm glad you believe me."

She shrugged and started in on the tomatoes. "I know. I mean, Ally screamed like tons and tons." Beatrice shut off the sink long enough to look at him and frown. "Wait, why won't Mom believe you?"

"Humans, erm, the adult ones don't or won't allow themselves to."

The urchin bit her lip as she processed that and then scurried to a set of doors under the island and pulled out a large metal mixing bowl. "For the eggs. Anyway, you could do the eye thing! That got Ally!"

Lucifer nodded, but despite his insistence on honesty in all parts of his life, something sharper and more painful than Malcolm's bullet had ever been twisted in his gut. "Perhaps someday, urchin, but it's a tricky thing. I tend not to tell humans I like or burden any friends with. It can be rather much for them. I just...she won't believe me yet, so breakfast shall have to suffice for now."

Beatrice rolled her eyes again and wasn't she too young for such cheek? "But Lucifer I bet she'd like it! You're so cool, not as cool as Maze, but pretty good."

"How dare you," he huffed cracking eggs into the bowl. "I'm far more interesting than even a Lilim. But, for now, I suppose it's best if I keep trying to convince your mother without the full monty."

Beatrice frowned. "What's that?"

"Never you mind. Now give us a hand, offspring, and help us stir."

**

The clang of cast iron three floors below woke Lucifer from his dreams. At least, lately, nightmares brought by Michael's revelations sometimes were replaced by half-buried memories of his good times in Los Angeles. Opening his eyes, he grumbled to himself and flexed his wings. While that annoying squeaky toy disguised as a flying rat had not tried to bite him this morning, the conniving beast had escaped its cage again and was clinging onto a floor lamp, its face and vicious fangs pointed toward the floor.

It squeaked a few warning "barks," and Lucifer held up his hands in defeat. "I've no quarrel with you this morning, uh, Beelzebub---still not funny---so let me get changed, and I'll see what the urchin is doing to my club's poor kitchen."

Another slam of metal on metal punctuated his point, and Lucifer was worried about what Beatrice thought she was doing down there. Leaping up, he slipped passed the flying menace, grabbed trousers for the morning (it was morning, right?), and hurried down the steps until he reached _Tenebrae_ 's kitchen.

He tucked his head down and pulled his wings as tightly to himself as he could. The ceiling overhead was only nine feet high and if he relaxed his wings, such as they were, the great spikes on top would scratch the vintage wood beams to ribbons. Also, he didn't fancy getting them clipped by the ceiling fans either, especially with a miracle mucking up his invulnerability.

"Oi!" He called as the urchin liberally doused a sauté pan with oil. The minute it touched the burner, it roared with flames, licking too high for comfort. Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the fire doused itself and the burner grew dark. "Being the Lightbringer still goes both ways, child. What in Dad's name are you doing? Should I enforce a don't cook angry rule?"

She glared at him, and he had to stifle a laugh. Beatrice was still filthy from the Mississippi River and her hair was somewhat tamed by the world's most tenacious scrunchy, but mud and Spanish moss were dotted liberally through her snarls of hair. 

But he didn't think it would benefit him to piss off the miracle currently. 

"I'm starving. I am dirty cause I was letting you sleep, and I fucking hate your brother."

Lucifer arched an eyebrow ridge at her. "Well, do continue, spawn. I loathe Mikey too, but I don't set a 4-alarm fire in the Quarter over it."

She gestured to the extinguished burner while wearing a constipated pout that was pure Douche on her face. Oh, how unbecoming an expression to inherit.

"If you think you can do better, Satan, then by all means go ahead. Get your inner Gordon Ramsey on."

Lucifer bent low and slid into a chair, well as best as he could manage by the corner of the kitchen nearest the rubbish bins. "Not my style. I may be the Prince of Darkness, but I'm rarely a yeller. I specialize in ironic punishment and not blowing my top. Now, I wish I could aid you in your culinary endeavors," he continued, holding up the gnarled remains of hands that had once literally crafted the stars. "But it's beyond my talents. I can, however, lend an ear. Just try not to get the fire brigade called here. It's poor form, urchin."

She nodded and offered him a too bright smile. "I'm sorry. That crack was shitty."

"Yes, but as Dr. Linda would have said you're clearly displacing feelings about one twin toward the other. Now, what did my pillock of a brother do now?"

Beatrice sighed and returned to the fridge. She didn't turn back around till she was loaded down with potatoes, eggs, and tomatoes. "Wrong kind of tortilla for breakfast this time?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "It's from the continent. Enjoy the variation, spawn."

"You say that cause you still haven't tried Abuela Minnie's recipe yet."

"True, but you get the eggs prepared, and I'll be kind enough to show you where we keep the saffron. It will hit quite the spot." He sighed as he watched her start her work. "Things seemed to be going swimmingly, well, as smoothly as they can when the Host are involved when I went to bed. What did he do?"

"Dude, did you not hear him get all pissy, use that Voice if God thing, and shake the third floor? Seriously, how!" She said, even as she washed off the vegetables with a particularly energetic vengeance.

"A lovely pharmaceutical companion called Fentanyl. I am abusing the upsides of miracle proximity to indulge in narcotics and feel them. I was out within five minutes, child."

She eyed him, and that look was purely her mother. Not just a cop look, but a practiced narc one as well. "You probably shouldn't do that."

"I literally can't overdose. I see no harm in it."

"Well, it's illegal!"

" _The Devil_ ," he replied. "Don't kid yourself, child. I keep a splendid Molly chemist on staff here, and while I do favors rarely these days, the few I do grant sometimes take a bit of less than legal greasing of the wheels."

"Yeah but---"

"Besides, Mikey vexes me too. I needed to clear my head and get to the Land of Nod. Now," he continued, threading his fingers together and setting his clasped hands on his knees. "What got him Commanding? He shouldn't use that against you. Then again, I've warned you about annoying the Demiurge, haven't I?"

She shrugged and cracked the eggs into a mixing bowl. "He can't."

Lucifer blinked slowly and felt some of the heat drain from his gaze. "Beg your pardon. Of course, he Commanded you. Only the other archangels and Amenadiel, as he's the eldest of us, can refuse Michael."

Beatrice bit her lip and focused on stirring the eggs with the same focus a human might direct to one of those diabolical Rubik's cubes. "He can't with me. He tried as a dare at his apartment. I pissed him off yesterday, and he did that Voice of God thing, I think, without even meaning it."

He considered that carefully and filed that information away. The Detective had been immune to his charms but certainly not safe from Amenadiel fucking with time or Uriel's attempts to set up deadly patterns. A miracle shouldn't be resilient to the Sword of God. If made precious little sense.

"Oh."

"What?" He queried, hoping he looked less pensive than he felt.

Her stirring stopped and she frowned. "Maze had that look too. Like she didn't really believe me either. I...is it bad?"

He sighed. "Unexpected. Your mother is immune only to me, not to the Host. Then again, you are a second-generation miracle so who completely knows what you can do. I suppose I'll see if Azrael can take you across into another universe with her. If her power doesn't work on you, that would be a bit more telling, I suppose."

Her lip wobbled, and how had he ended up feeling like he'd kicked a puppy again. "But it's not like super weird, right?"

Lucifer chuckled genuinely then. "I am the only whatever I am now on any plane, and you're the only miracle-squared. If you feel odd, urchin, you're in good company. It's most likely a benefit. Mikey's Commands look bothersome."

She nodded and turned to the vegetables to start chopping. Nervous about her near knives in such an agitated state, Lucifer stood and offered her his right hand, palm flat. 

"Let us help, child."

It worked after a fashion, distracting Beatrice from worries she couldn't quell alone. She sighed and eyed his hands, such as they were. "Are you sure? You said dexterity was hard, and you can get cut around me."

He held up his left hand and spread his fingers wide. "I've claws, spawn, and the blasted things should be good for something after all." Lucifer shrugged and winked at her. "Beside vampire disemboweling of course."

She rolled her eyes. "Gross, Luci. I'm trying to keep my appetite. But sure, if you're telling me the Devil slices, dices, and makes Julienne fries, then I'm in."

Lucifer brought his left hand to his chest and feigned outrage. "I'm not an appliance from _Crate and Barrel_ , spawn. I'm the Lord of Darkness."

"But you'd make French fries if I asked, right?" 

The child had the audacity to bat her eyelashes back at him, and he should have known back when she was only eight and driving hard bargains to get driving lessons that something was off with her. No mere mortal child could wheedle him so.

He started slicing through the potatoes, intending to cube them for the tortillas. "I'd need something more from any bargain to make you chips. So, at least now that I have the slicing handled, you could tell us why Michael pissed you off."

"Because he's holier than thou."

Lucifer nodded. "That covers all my siblings except for dear Azrael. Is that all? Try putting up with that for a few billion years."

Beatrice's eyes grew wide. "I forget sometimes, especially since you're way less mature than I am. How old you actually are.”

"I try," he said, finishing the first potato and moving into a second to cube. "But if you expected the literal Voice of the Presence aka my father to be humble or less than pious, spawn, then that mistake was on you."

She glared at him. "You're taking his side?"

"No, but I've known my brother since before we made the stars. He's a complete Daddy's boy. It's properly annoying is what it is. But it's inevitable too."

She sighed and rummaged around the kitchen till she found a Pyrex dish and poured the eggs into it. He'd add the veggies and spices soon after. 

"I just thought...I dunno...he's helping research the other miracles for me. He fucked up my sorority life cause he's an idiot."

"Also true."

"But he saved me by yanking me from the Mississippi."

"Yup," Lucifer agreed, popping the p.

"Yet," she grumbled. "he...I thought I could get him like more invested in you I guess."

Lucifer stopped chopping and washed his claws off in the nearest sink. He was a monster, but wasn’t about to be unhygienic. That was beneath him. "Oh urchin," he said, offering her a lop-sided smile. "we're not the bloody Olsen twins. We're not going to get along or feel each other's pain or finish each other's sentences. I can't stand the arsehole. He'll say it was just orders, but he still stabbed me and kicked me into Hell."

"And yet you were clearly bonding over _Bones_."

"Some good taste is genetic, child."

"So not."

"But we have a detente for your sake and for your mother's. We work together to protect the miracles because I love you both, in your own ways, and he has quite the guilty conscience weighing him down. We aren't really brothers any longer, and we're far from identical twins either."

She frowned, her eyes gone bright and shiny as she looked him over. "Technically true. You're cooler."

"And far more handsome."

Beatrice, bless her, smiled and, for a moment, Lucifer could almost pretend that was true. "Totally. Red works for you, dude. Anyway, I just thought---"

"There is no more loyal soldier among the Host than Michael, save for perhaps Gabriel." Lucifer sighed and started to spread the vegetables out in the egg pan. "He and I shall never agree on anything except for guarding the miracles. And for the next ninety years or so, that will have to do."

"So, I'm living to be 110?"

Lucifer winked at her. "If I have any bloody say in it, _longer_. Now let me grab that saffron, and we'll get this in the oven. I'm feeling peckish by now too."

Beatrice nodded but sighed again. "I'm sorry your family sucks."

He wriggled his wings a bit, still mindful of the ceiling fans overhead. "Take heart, urchin. It's nothing new to me. Earth was barely cooled before things broke bad with me and the Rebellion. Besides," he added reaching out and carefully squeezing her shoulder. "I have a family. I have you and Mazikeen, and Azrael and I are talking again. I've all the family I need."

He turned and strode to the spice cabinet to pull out the saffron. Adding liberal pinches to the tortilla, Lucifer offered Beatrice a smile, rotten teeth and all. "Seriously, child. I want for nothing."

Her eyes were too shiny as she slid the dish into the oven. The spawn talked a good game, but she did pity him, even if she didn't realize it herself. "But I'm mortal and that sucks and one day...I just want you to have more family."

He sighed and patted the crown of her head, frowning a bit at something vaguely slimy there. "I said we'll figure that out in ninety years, urchin. Now get cleaned up, would you? We'll get our kip, and then you seem like someone who could use a round with the clown at Jazzland. Am I wrong?"

"Luci, it's just---"

"No, Beatrice, not today. Not for a very long time. Now get that muck and Dad knows what out of your hair. There's a rather lovely lavender bubble bath round the rim of the tub anyway. And we'll be off in no time to one of your preferred tourist spots."

She glared at him and he felt his eyes flash back at her. So, what if the spawn wanted to talk about things decades off? There was no point to dealing with that kind of pain now. He was the Devil, and he'd make beings on every plane suffer if it meant keeping the miracles safe. Just ask the very late Esmée. No need to fret over what was far off over the horizon.

"Now, get a move on, offspring. We've a big day ahead of us."

"I...thanks, Luci. I still think Michael sucks."

He laughed so hard he doubled over. "That makes two of us. Now shoo...it's poor form to keep Old Scratch waiting."

**

When they landed in the flooded out, molded waste land that had once been Six Flags in all its garish color schemed glory, Lucifer helped the urchin to the ground. He’d set down near the clown again as he assumed his charge needed a healthier way to get her own aggression out. Something that wouldn’t involve her trying to smash the hell out of his kitchen’s burners or ruining perfectly good cookware. For her part, the offspring had surprised him a bit by dragging a metal baseball bat out of her alcove and from being hidden beneath Beelzebub’s cage. He hadn’t commented on it yet, but he was eyeing the sporting equipment warily.

“Did you always have that, Beatrice?”

She stepped away from him and took a few quick practice swings. “No, but I figured I might want more than a crowbar if we continued, you know, the making sure you don’t ruin your apartment project.”

“First,” he said, bringing a hand to his chest. “I am clearly not the only miscreant at _Tenebrae_ determined to shred things around me. I know my chef is going to be rather confused about how you left at least one skillet, Beatrice.”

“It’s only a little charred,” she replied, finishing her test swings and then tucking the bat under her right arm pit. “Besides, you ruin way bigger stuff than I do: your bar, your railing, your _pianos_ …”

Lucifer frowned and sighed a bit, even as he let his wings out to catch the breeze. He loathed them, but the breeze over the thin skin there did feel lovely, and he knew the urchin, bent as she was, wouldn’t care one wit. It was comforting. That blithe disregard toward the Infernal, and he hardly merited it.

“Fair enough, but I thought we were spending time with the old clown today. It still has mostly intact eyes. Plus, they’re downright evil.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been reviewing a lot of Ted’s scouting videos and intel, you know? And there are so many things to smash into. I didn’t want to limit the fun.”

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or vaguely horrified,” he said, falling into line behind her as they walked past the Ferris Wheel, and then the urchin made a sharp left toward an abandoned café. “You don’t engage in acts of moderate vandalism back in Texas, do you?”

Beatrice actually blushed. “Okay, so there was one guy---Javi---and he was really cute and like the coolest guy in sophomore year, like the star of the baseball team and stuff. Great dimples.”

Lucifer flapped his wings briskly. “Yes, get on with it then, child.”

She smirked back at him. “You’re as bad as, Dad, I swear. Well, he also had a side hobby cause he was into street art, like Banksy kind of stuff? Anyway, one day we did go out on a Saturday to spray paint an overpass not too far from school. I mean, I mostly just added a few accent colors cause I don’t know my way around spray paint much. It’s not my medium, but, well, we did get caught and reported. Mom was so pissed. Dad wasn’t thrilled either. I must have gotten one of the top longest lectures in my life, and instead of just cleaning out and helping refile around the precinct…man, I had to do the abuelos’ yard chores all summer. In Austin. It was 110 all July!”

He gave a low whistle and considered her. “First, that’s hardly warm.”

“Sorry, not all of us have Hell as our zip code, Old Scratch.”

“Second,” he continued. Seriously, the cheek of this one. “you have rather crap taste in beaus, Beatrice. First, the lad who got you in trouble for petty vandalism and then the vampire. Of all of them, this urban explorer, Theodore, seems the best choice.”

She stopped at the café and rolled her eyes at him. He supposed there was no point in trying to sell her on the idea that her face might get stuck making such expressions. It wouldn’t, but like her pouting, didn’t do the urchin any favors.

“Okay, so Cheryl and I had a terrible idea.”

He sobered and regarded her, vision filmed by crimson. “It was bloody idiotic, spawn. If you’d wandered into any other bar but my own, you’d have been dead. Or rather worse _undead_. Even at that, you’re fortunate Mazikeen was so attentive. On Saturdays, I get distracted by the crowd. She had that leech pegged from the off.”

“You’re _not_ my dad, Luci.” She said, nodding toward the back of the café.

Confused, he followed her around back and gaped at the hideous statue there. Seriously, perhaps the flood had been a one-off from dear old Dad to restore a sense of style to the Big Easy. Was the park filled with nothing but eye sores masquerading as mascots? The alligator stood perhaps as tall as his ward and was chipped and weathered by both the storm from long ago and exposure to the Louisiana sun. It was adorned with a puffy chef’s hat, matching overalls, and a broad, blue scarf, all fashioned presumably from the same fiberglass that the rest of it was fabricated from. It was distinctly unappealing.

“You truly know the best locations, child.”

She smirked at him. “See, untouched and maybe even uglier than the clown.” Beatrice stood away from him and took a few more practice swings. “Do you want to go first?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve gotten enough use out of the ruddy claws this morning.”

“I swear, next time, you so are Julienne-ing fries for me.”

“Nope,” he said, elongated the word till it almost had three or four syllables in it. “Besides, urchin, I’m not…I’d never replace the Douche. First off, I’m better on all counts. Far more charming.”

“Hey!” she argued, taking her first deliberate swing and thudding with impressive malice into the rotund belly of the chef gator. “Dad’s great!”

“Right, sure, but you do agree I get a head start for _not_ doing improv.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, because juggling is so much cooler.”

“But I…” he sighed and stretched his wings again. “…I would feel remiss if I didn’t point out that it seems to me that cute boys might be a bit of your Kryptonite, Beatrice. I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong. Lads can be rather lovely.”

She shook her head and swung again, this time managing to actually dint the scarf part of the gator. “No stories about you at like the first Olympics ever in Athens or something with a young wrestler, Luci. I don’t need a tour through sexy history right now. Carnage is better!” She emphasized her point by giving and erratic upwards jab to the gator’s snout, chipping it and causing a fake fang to fly through the air.

“Yes, quite,” he drawled. “However, you may need to keep your wits about you more. Less vandalism and sneaking into graveyards.”

“I’m _vandalizing_ with you,” she pointed out, going for a knee shot this time and while the statue didn’t crack, it did shudder.

“Did you play baseball as a kid?”

“I did softball in middle school,” she admitted.

“Also,” he continued. “That’s different. I’m the semi-retired Lord of Hell, nothing bad will happen to you with me here. Sneak off for some snogging with the undead and nothing good will come of it.”

“Yeah, I…” she stopped mid-swing and drooped a bit, leaning against the wall of the defunct restaurant. “…it was dumb, and I was too drunk, and I just…the leeches wouldn’t even know about me if I hadn’t gone with Cheryl and those creepy vamps. I do get that.”

“To be fair, you wouldn’t know about you either, at least that being a miracle comes with far more than I even suspected it did with your mother,” Lucifer conceded. Reaching out, he patted the top of her head. “I am not your parents. There are some vices I’d turn somewhat of a blind eye toward, like the fact you drink free in my club at all.”

“Two drinks and then seltzer water, sure, you’re quite the enabler, Satan.”  
  


“But I do worry, of course, and I would find it rather self-defeating to protect you from all manner of supernatural nasties only to have you bite it due to following around the wrong chap.”

She pulled away from him but stayed leaning against the restaurant, seemingly spent a bit from her vandalism so far. “I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, well, caution is perhaps less overrated than I thought as a young Celestial or in Los Angeles. Just do try and have better taste in suitors, Beatrice.”

She snorted. “Yes, Luci.”

“You know, no one else, even Maze, is as cheeky with me as you are. That tone would have gotten underlings flayed eons ago in Hell, urchin.”

She groaned and went back to swinging at the gator with renewed fervor. “Oh G…man, you’re going to lecture me too.”

“Come again?”

“Michael. He got all angry about how I don’t show ‘prudence’ or ‘deference’ or whatever. He kept getting annoyed that I don’t listen to anyone and scoffed at my whole twenty years of life experience.”

“Yes, what could an archangel and a former one who literally crafted the heavens know about the world that someone born in 2008 doesn’t?” Lucifer replied, smirking at her.

“Ugh, both of you shouldn’t pull that ‘Oh, we’re the Demiurge; we drink, and we know things’ crap.”

“Mikey’s no Tyrion Lannister, and he doesn’t drink. I’m sure he’d find that a vice. However, as much as it pains me to admit it, my twin isn’t wrong. Beatrice, Father---”

“Is awful and sucks and does things to make other Fallen, which hey you totally didn’t mention those, and like if I pissed God off should he ever pop back into _this_ Earth, he’d make me like a giant slug or something.”

He growled despite himself and yanked the bat from her hands. “Father would do as he pleases with you, and you’re insolent. Granted, I like a bit of that, but my father, I assure you, doesn’t cater to it.” He removed his left hand from her shoulder long enough to gesture to himself. “You’re rash, Beatrice. I can understand that. Hardly anyone has ever accused me of thinking things through. But Father is not one to fuck around with. Neither is Gabriel should you ever be so unfortunate as to make his acquaintance.”

She sighed dramatically and pulled away again, tugging the bat from him again. “Yeah, I know. Michael said that too. I can so tell you’re twins.”

“Oi! Take that back. I’m not a killjoy.”  
  


“You sure about that?” she teased. “Anyway, I just…I get it. I’m new. I’m the human, uh, mostly. It doesn’t mean I’m an idiot just cause I’m not literally _billions_ of years old.”

“But you don’t understand how the preternatural pecking order works either. If you were to truly piss Father or perhaps even my brothers off,” he shook his head. “Urchin, if they so chose, they could dole out a punishment severe enough that you would envy my own. Neither Michael nor I, for all our disagreements, would wish such torment on you. There’s a lot to worry about, is all.”

“I think I’d make a cool Hell beast,” Beatrice sniffed.

His eyes flashed. “Don’t even joke.”

“Well all my three best buds are either Lilim or the Devil himself. I mean, I didn’t even get a choice. I don’t want to be a miracle, and I don’t want to go to the Silver City when I die, either. I so want a vote on that.”

“I rule a kingdom of ash and ruin. You want the other option, I assure you,” he replied, his tone flat.

“But you always say that heaven’s boring.”

“It’s static but pleasant. Hell is endless and never changing but it has eyeball popping out Tuesdays. You would not like it. _I_ don’t like it. Why do you think I’m on holiday now until you die of very pleasant, old lady natural causes in like a century?”

“I just…I’m not some little kid.”

Lucifer sighed and patted her back, mindful of his claws. “To both my twin and I, you are barely a blink in the span of time of the cosmos.”

“I forget sometimes.”

“What now?” he asked, dropping his hand again.

“How old you are. Cause, I gotta tell you, between telling me who you screwed on my freshman lit syllabus and watching terrible action flicks…I dunno, it doesn’t gel with basically older than time, you know?”

He smirked at her. “I’m like a parfait. I can have layers. Urchin, if you’re angry at Michael because he wished for you to be more respectful of Father---should the tosser ever return---then I can’t even blame my brother. I promise that you don’t want my fate to be yours. You truly don’t.”

She shook her head and swiped fiercely at her eyes before returning to the bedraggled gator. “Yeah, but I…you’re not so bad, Luci.”

“I am not that bad to you. I assure you, I’m that bad to most, but I’m rather glad you’re so warped, spawn.” He considered their argument quietly as she worked hard enough to knock off the gator’s elbow. “When was the last time you did anything boringly normal, Beatrice?”

“Huh?” she asked, stopping in mid-swing to regard him. “This is um kind of normal.”

“You’ve broken into a drowned-out amusement park to wreak carnage with the Devil himself. This is not normal, child.”

“It’s normal now,” she conceded.

“If I may offer advice for a third time tonight---”

She hit the hat again, and it half-caved in. _Ooh struck a nerve there_. “You’ve been full of advice, Luci. Why stop now?”

“Yes, quite. However, I want you to remember that you have to work hard to keep up relationships with your human friends---that Theodore of yours and your sorority sisters. Takazeen, Maze, and I all care for you, but you need humans to spend time with as well.”

“I’m supposed to see Lettie and Annie soon enough at the discipline hearing. I just…I’m kind of overloaded here, Satan.”

“And that’s my fault. But I don’t wish to strip you of your human life, of the fun of it. Trust me, I think humans are quite entertaining. Wouldn’t have had so many holidays on Earth if I didn’t. You need more than demons, child.” He pulled his wings closer to his back. “You _deserve_ more than that.”

Beatrice stopped her ministrations and quirked her head at him. “You’re not a burden.”

“But I and my idiot brother have derailed your semester quite thoroughly. Do us a favor, spawn, and invite your sisters and perhaps that Theodore chap to the club at least. I can close it down for a happy hour and let you enjoy their company. We’re setting up a tasting menu and testing things out for Mardi Gras at either rate. You need more than what Maze and I can provide you, and you have to understand that.”

She shrugged and set the bat down. Then, she arched one arm over her head and gripping it, worked to stretch it out. “I’m not really normal. I mean, so far, I have zero cool powers, but I’m not exactly a regular college kid either. I’d _like_ not to be a defective miracle and totally powerless in a fight or something, but I’m definitely not like everyone else.”

“True, but that isn’t an excuse to ignore the company of others. Hedonism is rather addictive, but to be more mild, human society and comfort are almost as important.” He shrugged and flapped his wings a bit behind him. “Do it for the team, Beatrice. I cannot really be near humans, but you can. I shall offer you a deal.”

Her eyes lit up at that. “Open-ended?”

  
“Hardly. I’m no fool, and I _invented_ favors. However, if you have a normal day with your friends, well, perhaps as normal as _Tenebrae_ gets, then I shall teach you some self-defense of your own. Mazikeen is quite adept with her knives.”

“She’s the best!”

“Yes, but I know quite a few tricks of my own. Is that agreeable?”

She bit her lower lip and considered the offer. “Maybe.”

“Are you daft? I don’t cut deals this good to mortals. Or Lilim either.”  
  


“Yeah, but you and I both _need_ me to be better at self defense since it’s how I’m going to stay alive. So, you’d probably do it anyway to be a bonus to what Maze is teaching me.”

Drat, she had him there.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Then, what else do you desire?”

“You still owe me a movie night. I call double feature. The evening after we train. That’s my deal.”

“How diabolical are you on doubling up on terrible cinema, child?”

She set the bat down and rubbed her hands together vigorously. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Fine then,” he said. “You’ve a deal, but only because I wish fervently for you to keep up your connections in the human world. It is _not_ because you’re a better deal maker than I am.”

“Don’t be so sensitive, Old Scratch,” she chuckled and then handed him the bat. “Do you want to try now?”

He smirked at her and brandished his claws. “I brought my own. Now, step aside, spawn. Let me show you how it’s done.”

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a link to a picture of the actual Chef Gator statue in New Orleans - https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/six-flags-abandoned-amusement-park - click the slideshow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael starts tracking down information by interviewing other miracles in The Silver City.

**Chapter Six**

The Silver City was a welcome sight for sore eyes. Michael hadn’t had time in months to go home. He was always flitting about between the various angels on earth and the exiles, and now that he had his twin and the miracle to say grace over, Michael, for all his gifts, was even more behind. It had been back during what would have been the New Year’s earth-time that he’d last ventured home to plan out the first quarter’s work and schedule with his brothers. Gabriel set the patterns and schedules in motion. Raphael, as always, healed what was needed. Since angels didn’t interact much with humans currently---those types of miracles hadn’t been commonplace since the Crucifixion---the archangel focused instead on helping the rest of the Host in heaven. Most were happy singing praises and following the routine above, those who were usually younger angels with fewer duties. But it had been nearly fifty years and the longest any of them had gone from hearing from Father. Some of the very youngest were upset by this absence, and some, like Remiel, were impatient and growing angry.

Raphael brought them peace merely by listening to their concerns.

And so the three of them worked round the clock, truly beyond the bounds of even their Celestial gifts, to keep order and the universe going. Michael hoped that between Raphael’s counseling and his own check-ins with the earth-bound Host, they’d be able to avoid another potential Rebellion (one was enough to last the rest of eternity) and, somehow worse, the kind of betrayal that Uriel had leveled against all of them.

But he missed Heaven when he was gone. While his twin complained about it never changing---and whoever said change was always a good thing---Michael loved its consistency. It seemed to have less with Father gone, but there was comfort in knowing that in a year or a hundred years, he could slip back to the city and find the streets still lined with gold, the sky a beautiful, robin’s egg blue, and the assorted ancient temples, so very Grecian in design, as regal and magnificent as always. It was home, and it was the most beautiful sight on any plane that Michael had ever seen.

Azrael saw all of the multiverse, she and the other psychopomp angels who worked under her. They had never gotten along, and that was his own fault for being young once and arrogant, for often going along with Gabriel’s bullying and harassment of the younger Host. However, if he ever were on great terms with his younger sister, Michael would have wanted to ask her if she’d seen anything more beautiful throughout all of Father’s creation than the Silver City. Deep down, Michael felt in his bones it couldn’t be possible.

He strode through the streets, bowing his head to the various legions assorted there. He could tell by the angle of the sun that soon it would be afternoon choir practice. Castiel was not nearly as gifted as their last choral master. Then again, their last one had started a Rebellion and forced a war. So, even if Castiel tended to go flat on occasion, it was probably a better arrangement. Michael nodded to his siblings, many who seemed to stare at him with awe. The younger Host were like that, and Mother and Father had been so very busy when he and Samael had been off creating the stars, hadn’t they? The youngest of them---except Remiel, as she bowed to no one but Father and Amenadiel---seemed to think of the archangels as living legends. A few had even come to be _after_ the Rebellion, the last gasps of Mother and Father trying to move on and reconcile. As if that had worked. The youngest ones had names even he struggled to recall, and Michael supposed to siblings so far removed from his age or from those early first years of Creation, well, he and Gabriel and Raphael…some of the others too…were like living legends.

The Sword of God.

He who had quelled the Rebellion in the end and sent the Betrayer to Hell with one, swift kick.

Michael had never been proud of such a reputation, never liked the way the youngest of his siblings regarded him. More story than actual angel, and those that hadn’t even been born yet at the time of the Rebellion knew nothing. It was all a story to them, one gladly embellished by Gabriel and, once long ago, by an unctuous Uriel, desperate to fit in even though he’d been a piss poor soldier and done little to stop anything even then.

Yet now, _especially now_ , as he’d reconnected with Samael after a fashion, it felt like sharp pokers under his tongue to see the reverence there. The Sword of God. It meant he’d been obedient. That he had followed orders as the Miracle so derisively said. Since when was following orders wrong? And since when did he dare question what Father even wanted?

He shook those thoughts off or tried to as he entered the main hall of Father’s throne room. Though they split the duties equally and technically ruled this odd interregnum as a trio, neither he nor Raphael had ever felt comfortable sitting in Father’s seat. Gabriel had no such compunction, but he must have been in his study working on plans for the coming week and the schedules Azrael and her assistants would be working from. Michael breathed a sigh of relief, and that was strange. Wrong too. He shouldn’t be nervous about his own brother.

And yet, perhaps he had for a while now, ever since he’d discovered Charlie Martin’s existence. Now, he had a miracle to tend to with more power than even Michael, himself, understood. Too many secrets, too many innocents that Gabriel could ferret out the truth about. And while he didn’t think that Gabriel would hurt the miracle directly. After all, she was blessed but human, and _none_ of the Host would ever dare kill a human. Not now. Not knowing exactly what had happened to Samael in all its clawed and burned repugnance. There were non-lethal ways to control a miracle, should Gabriel see fit. And Charlie, even if he were only eight, was a Nephilim, something wholly uncharted. Michael wasn’t sure Gabriel would embrace that either.

So, yes, best to keep his business at home short. He was not a liar, but he was not gifted like Sammy was at letting people hear what they wanted to in a conversation either. Thus, best to avoid the Strength of God as long as possible.

As he turned away from the throne to go to the hall of records, Michael found himself staring at Raphael. His brother, skin almost as dark as Amenadiel’s but with hair he kept, if truth be told, overly long, regarded him with a beatific smile.

The Healer of God lived up to his reputation. To be in his brother’s presence was to feel an easing to the tension that plagued his soul and the tightness in his chest that had not left since his fight with Trixie Espinoza.

Michael barely hesitated before wrapping his brother in a tight embrace. “Raphael, it is good to see you.”

His brother pulled away from him and regarded him with shrewd grey eyes. “You as well, Michael, but you’re not due back for another month. Is everything alright on earth? Has Lucifer made trouble? Perhaps Gaudium…”

Michael sighed. “I have had no trouble with the angels on earth.”

And that was true. His current dilemma centered around one miracle, ironically one he hadn’t made and couldn’t simply Command to obey. Not that he usually abridged human’s free will where he could. Something about that felt off, except when it was a necessity and couldn’t be avoided. But it was not through any fault of Samael’s own this time. It was due to the machinations Father had envisioned, and he and Amenadiel had enabled over centuries.

Raphael quirked his head and studied him, confusion flickering over his expression. “Yes, well, it’s quite a happy thing to have you here. Choir will be over soon enough this evening. As always, you are welcome to feast with us. You hardly keep anything of note in your abode.”

“My reputation proceeds me,” he huffed.

“You are not the only one who occasionally hears news filtered in through Gaudium.”  
  


Michael took note of that. The fallen cherub had a big mouth, best to keep any talk of his strange charges---the Nephilim and the Miracle---from Gaudium’s ears as well. “Well, I’d love to feast, but first I have a few things to discuss with some human souls, in fact. I just needed to double check the records to locate the ones I wanted.”

Raphael frowned. “Humans? Why ever would you need to bother? Their section of The Silver City is, of course, pleasant enough, but there’s no need for an angel to ever go there.”

Michael’s posture stiffened. “I have research that needs to be done. I thought it best to expand some of the records I’m keeping. Does it matter? I won’t take long with them. I’ll interview fast enough for dinner, I promise.”

“You’re allowed to go where you please, Brother, but humans, while somewhat entertaining…they aren’t really at your paygrade as the expression goes.”

Michael paused for a minute. He wondered if this was how he sounded to Samael and Trixie. That unbridled angelic ego and arrogance. He certainly had thought that way for eons. The last couple centuries spent in combat with Fenris had humbled him. After all, he’d almost _lost_ , and that never had even come close to happening save once before. Then, the dozen years spent on earth moving amongst humans had made him enjoy them, if at least in an abstract sense. They were prone to sin, so very unfortunate, but they were also unpredictable and creative. It was fascinating to watch.

And perhaps clinical study of them was no better than Raphael and Gabriel’s barely hidden contempt.

Well, the Host had never been fans of Father’s “little side project,” as Mother had labeled it.

“Raphael?”

“Yes?” His brother’s frown deepened. “Do you seek counsel? You’ve spent so long on earth. Perhaps you need to ease your own burdens, Brother.”

That would be a disaster.

“No, I have no need to speak with you…not like that. I don’t want to trouble you.” And that was true. Raphael listened to _everyone’s_ problems. He should have some siblings he could be near who wouldn’t take advantage of his healing talents. “It’s just…what happens if Father comes back?”

Raphael blinked. “What do you mean ‘if?’ Are you sure you’re alright? Father _will_ come back. He always has his walkabouts. He always comes back to The Silver City.”

“This time has been so very long, and even before He left, he was barely talking to anyone but us and Amenadiel. He hadn’t spoken with the Host in public and at length for centuries. What if He has left us?”

Raphael’s wings flared out behind them, the mottled grey and silver seeming to dim in their glow. “Father _always_ comes back. Don’t ever doubt Him.” He leaned closer and whispered. “Brother, we cannot doubt. You _know_ what happens when we do.”

Michael wondered if Raphael realized he was looking down at floor beneath and, eventually and by implication, toward Hell below them.

He sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair and straightened the glasses on his nose. “I…forgive me. I have a tiring workload. Of course, Father will return. I could never truly question Him. It has just been too long, and I miss the surety of his counsel. It is hard to replace The Alpha and Omega, and I fear the three of us just aren’t sufficient some days.”

Raphael’s wings fell back to place, their glow restored. “Yes, exactly. But you and Gabriel and I have the honor in serving in His place. We do what we can and do not fault yourself for not replacing Him. We’re merely tending to the full flock until Father is ready to come back to us. You do great work with our siblings on earth, never doubt that.” He lifted a hand and set it on Michael’s shoulder. That calm and serenity that Raphael was so adept at delivering when he healed flowed through him, and he could see why the other Host found his brother comforting. “You can endure this because we have to, but don’t feel you have to be Him. None of us could ever be Father. After all, isn’t it why the Demiurge was split between you and Samael long ago?”

“Yes, I…it is hard without Him. Every day, I think, it grows more difficult to have the same clarity of purpose I once held.”

Raphael dropped his hand and nodded. “That is true, but soon, Brother, I am sure Father will come back to us, and everything will be as it should be. We will be whole.”

_Minus Uriel. Minus the Fallen. With Mother in a different universe if the rumors are true, and without Samael…_

Michael shook his head and banished the thoughts from his mind. They led nowhere good. He couldn’t afford doubt. Yes, their family would never be whole again, not even close, but when Father returned, it would be better. He _had_ to hold onto that.

Offering his brother a tepid smile, Michael added, “Of course, we will. Hosanna in the highest.”

“And praise be to Father,” Raphael rejoined before turning back to his own suite of rooms in the palace.

Taking that sense of comfort along with him.

**

Michael had rarely been to the human souls section of heaven. It was technically The Silver City, but it changed to reflect the humans as they adapted as well. So many of the Host only stayed within the angels’ quarters so that part of The Silver City, again like something akin to ancient Athens or Babylon in peak glory, never altered. The human side, however, tended to bend and change with the influx of souls. The newer ones perhaps a bit more vibrant, their emotions and wants forcing the changes around them. So, while the human section had once looked Classical, currently it was adorned by striking skyscrapers, crystalline spires that stretched farther into the sky than some of the tallest buildings on earth, the giants of Hong Kong or Dubai.

Sleek, modern, and apparently outfitted with every amenity from digital cable (which he sort of had an inkling of) to all the luxury humans could recreate for themselves above and some only Heaven could provide.

There were scattered older sections of the human sector, some parts that still had old world European flare or a colonial American motif, but, for the most part, even the dead souls above moved and changed with the influx of the newest arrivals. Humans who had passed on before the fall of Rome mostly adept enough to enjoy the pleasures of cable, skyscrapers, and ski lifts toward the outer mountains as if all that hadn’t been perfected in the last hundred years only.

Humans. They never did stop evolving, did they?

If Michael felt like an object of reverence for his youngest siblings, he felt utterly foreign to the human souls around him. Unlike the truly living, they were fully inoculated to the divine. There was no risk of driving beings who were, at their essence, made of pure soul-matter insane with the sight of his divinity. However, as he made his way through the skyscrapers and luxury boutiques to an older corner of the human section, one that still was somewhat reminiscent of ancient Greece before it, Michael noticed how the human souls gave him a wide berth.

He wouldn’t call their reactions fearful. Exactly. But he was regarded with wary eyes at worst and utter bafflement at best. Except for Castiel and his legion of cherubs who helped lead humans in worship, Michael was unclear if any of the Host ever came here period. It had never really occurred to him to do so except when Father asked it of him and, to be honest, Father _hadn’t_ asked him to do anything of the sort since the Renaissance.

Twisting through the streets and keeping his wings pulled tightly to his back, Michael finally came to the small marble structure he’d been looking for. It was situated to circle around a central fountain and was decorated with masterfully carved wildlife from goats to wild lions.

It was not what he would have expected in the human section, a bit too pagan, but then again, the miracles who had come to be before the time of his half-brother and the way, the truth, and the light had more leeway than other ancient souls who had yet to ascend with the Rapture. Records held that this miracle had perished some time in the early eighth century B.C., and that she had been an Oracle at Delphi.

Michael sat on the cool, stone rim of the fountain and called out to the soul he sought. “Helena Petrakos, I’ve come to speak with you.”

The woman who slipped out to meet him was small and slight. Souls tended to resemble what they had in life, although some opted to look like their best possible selves---back in high school era glory or reduce those pounds away that had plagued them in life. This woman was barely five feet tall if she were an inch and her dark ebony hair was piled into sweeping tendrils high on her head. Dark emerald eyes regarded him with hesitation but, eventually, she sat down on a sedan opposite him.

“Angels don’t come here.” She regarded his broad white wings. “Archangels _never_ come here unless it’s Gabriel.”

“Does my brother come often?” Michael asked.

“At least once a year now,” she replied. “I don’t like him much.”

“Gabriel can be a bit demanding, but he means well,” Michael said. “He just doesn’t realize he bowls people over. I think that happens even more when he’s dealing with humans.”

“You mean he’s got an ego on him,” she replied, chuckling.

_Great another one with a mouth like Trixie’s._

Were all miracles this insufferable? Michael was sure that Chloe Decker was a stickler for law and order and not just because of her profession. Any human who could get his brother to devote his time to less than 100% hedonism at all hours had to be as straight-laced as they came.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown while Father is busy,” Michael admitted. “Do you know who I am?”

She frowned. “You look familiar. I…it’s been so very long since I got here, but you brought me yourself after that girl with the interesting hairdo freed my soul.”

Michael chuckled warmly. “Azrael, my younger sister. The angel of death has always had an interesting fashion sense.” Back then it was a wild nest of hair that lead halfway down her back. He wasn’t sure the bowl cut was an improvement. “My name is Michael, and I’ve come to talk about your life.”

“Why? It was so long ago, sometimes even _I_ barely remember it.”

He sighed and looked down at his hands. “Because you were different from other humans. It’s why you’re here and one of the oldest souls in the city. It’s why I settled you here myself. I…your power came from a blessing _I_ gave your mother before you were even born, one that Father ordered be done.”

“My sight was a gift from the gods, plural, silly Angel. I always thought from Hera, herself, as I had a fondness for her, she the most put upon of goddesses.”

His wings flared at that. The miracles who had come to The Silver City before Christianity had gotten a foothold were unlike any other souls. Older, yes, because of their divine natures. However, also ones who sometimes still held to the old beliefs of the lesser pantheons. Why Father allowed them to cling to those beliefs, Michael didn’t know, but they were a sight too divine to go anywhere else when they died. If Helena wanted to spend her afterlife still serving the lesser gods she had in life, well, that was for Father to mete out later.

He just wanted information now.

“Yes, well, I should never underestimate humans’ capacities for creative denial. Your ability to see the future came from Elohim, and it was bestowed directly by me. I promise you this.”

Green eyes grew wide. “And you settled me in a very empty paradise of maybe a dozen other humans souls millennia ago and failed to mention this, Angel?”

Michael tucked his wings back against his shoulders and sighed. “I felt personally responsible to the blessed. I settled all of you here unless I was otherwise deterred by Father’s work.”

“You have never visited since,” she commented, her voice quiet but pensive. “It doesn’t take a gift of sight---one that I no longer have here---to see that you’ve got a guilty conscience.”

He straightened his glasses on his nose. The damn things had slipped down yet again. “I am closer with the currently blessed, this generation’s miracle, then I intended. She hasn’t yet figured out her gift, and she wanted more information to help her uncover it. She may have also ungratefully accused me of _cursing_ her and others like her.”

“Miracle?” the slight seer chuckled. “I’ve never been called that, not so succinctly. For whatever it’s worth, Angel, I don’t see what happened to me as a curse. A girl from my family had no hope but long, languishing slavery to the high class of Sparta. Instead, I was whisked off at eighteen to Delphi to honor the gods. It gave my life purpose.” She shrugged. “It did, at least, until a jealous fellow seer in the temple gutted me seven years later. Ironically, I could see the will of Apollo or the vague vacillations in Ares’s plans, but I did not see that coming.”

He swallowed hard at that. “I think the rival priestess would have worked hard to make sure that was so. I’m sorry.”

“Well, assuming my gift comes from your Father and not Hera, herself---”

“Oh, it does.”

“Yes, well, I would have died much younger of some plague or something else slaving away in a pig sty on a farm. It was a better life than I’d have had a right to otherwise, so I’m far from ungrateful.” She winked at him and spread out her hands expansively. “My current habitation now is quite pleasant.”

“I…but you suffered at the end.”

“Having a dagger hilt deep in my entrails wasn’t what I’ve have wished for a death, no.” She offered him a small, sad smile. “It was the time it took to bleed out alone on the floor of the temple that was so draining, but that was so long ago that it almost seems like it happened to someone else. Or like it was a dream I had.”

“I’m still sorry. Did you feel cursed?”

“No, not once.”

He sighed again, trying to ignore the way his throat constricted, and it was hard to breathe even if he technically didn’t need to do it. It was habit from years of passing as human on earth, and now his breath seemed to be escaping him. “And how did you find your power? You were so young, relatively speaking, when you found it. It takes some miracles a decade or more after they turn eighteen.”

She stretched on the sedan, a languid, leonine gesture that accentuated the arch of her back. “Games children play, I suppose. My specialty with the temple was augury and reading the future in entrails, but I could do it in any medium. Even as a child, my siblings and I would try and read the truth in the way water rippled in a pond.”

“You can scry.”

“I can,” she admitted. “That’s how it happened. What was just a game for me, a release, became my power not long after my eighteenth birthday.” She shrugged. “You are aware of most of the rest.”

Michael nodded. “Yes, the one I’m partially in charge of now is trying to find which hobby of hers will fit into her ability. Alas, she has quite a few of those.”

“Yes,” the seer laughed again. “I know enough about modern humans even if I don’t spend much time with those souls to see how many distractions they can come up with. How different times are.”

“Yes, well, she hasn’t found it yet, but perhaps it really is kindled from something so elemental, a hobby she’s always turned to for comfort. I’ll let Trixie know.” He stood and bowed his head toward her. “Thank you, Miss Petrakos, for your help.”

The seer stood yet still didn’t have a hope of even coming up _near_ his shoulder. She walked over to him and offered her hand. “I’ve seen the modern ones do this too. Angel—”

“Michael,” he clarified.

“Yes, well Michael, then. The guilt hangs so heavily over you. It should not. I had a good life, brief as it was, and I’ve been rewarded since. Your current miracle might find her position a curse, but I have always seen it as an honor. When you see her again, remind her of as much.”

Michael snorted at that. “Trust me, this miracle doesn’t like being told _anything_.”

**

He found himself winding back through a large park in the more modern heart of the human sector. Michael could press forward to look for the second miracle on his list, but he had also promised to join Raphael for dinner, and he didn’t want to set his brother’s hackles up any higher. Raphael always knew when something was off, and, honestly, what wasn’t these days? Perhaps Michael could take a day and sleep in his room at the palace for once and question the other miracles in the morning.

Resolute in his decision, Michael turned on his heels and started toward the center of the park. He’d be able to flap easily there and fly back to his side of The Silver City and the palace far faster than walking back.

Humans spread away from him as he made his way to the fluffy expanse of pastel colored clouds in the park’s center. Spreading his wings wide, he flicked them a few times to get a feel for the air currents (perfect as always) and was about to take off when a soft hand on his shoulder startled him.

Frowning, he looked down to his left and expected to find the Greek seer had followed him, perhaps with an extra tidbit for Trixie.

What he did not expect was the tall woman beside him with long golden hair and intelligent brown eyes. Nor the flash of the oddest feeling that there was something _familiar_ about her, which made little sense because Michael had never met her. And yet, there was something lingering in her aura that, as insane as it sounded, reminded him of Mother.

“Lucifer! I thought I’d never see you again,” the stranger said, and Michael folded in his wings as she hugged him tightly. “God…oh crap, you know what I mean. I thought I’d never see you again. I know that Amenadiel visits sometimes, but he _won’t_ talk about you and---”

Michael patted her back awkwardly. “Miss, I apologize, but I don’t know you.”

The woman pulled away sharply and frowned at him. “Okay, so you’re not actually British but when did you drop the accent, and wait…when did you decide to affect glasses?”

Michael rolled his eyes and, perhaps, spending too much time with Trixie was rubbing off on him. “Miss, my name is Michael Demiurgos. I’m Samael’s…I’m _Lucifer_ ’s twin brother. I guess he never mentioned me, huh? I get the feeling he’s left me out of a lot of conversations.”

“Twin?”

Michael nodded and flicked the tips of his primary feathers back and forth nervously. “Yes, I’m sorry you didn’t know. Obviously, Lucifer hasn’t been in The Silver City since before humans were on earth. He can’t come here. He can’t even access this plane.”

The woman’s face crumbled at that. “I…oh, how stupid of me. Of course, he can’t. I just saw you, and I didn’t expect…I just missed my friend.”

Michael studied her. “I’m late for dinner with the Host, specifically my brother Raphael. But would you like to be my guest? I’d love to hear stories of what Sa…Lucifer has been up to in the human realm. It would be my honor to bring you.”

“I thought the humans didn’t get to mingle much with the angels. I get the feeling it’s a shock whenever my neighbors catch Amenadiel on his visits.”

“But that’s no worry for you, Miss. You’re my guest, and I am one-third of the interregnum. No one will bother you.” He bowed his head low as a sign of respect.

She laughed and held out her hand. After a beat, Michael took it. She chuckled a bit longer and wiped tears away from her eyes. “That’s funny. No, Michael, I’m sure a bunch of _Precious Moments_ figurines couldn’t make me feel bad. I might have gone D.A. before I died, but I’m still Charlotte Richards, Esquire, and I don’t back down from any challenges.”

Michael shook his head even as he finished shaking her hand. Where did his brother keep finding these ridiculously loyal yet mouthy human women?

“Wait, were you one of Lucifer’s lovers?”

Charlotte blanched a little and then shook her head. “No, he was only my friend, and he and Amenadiel helped me get out of Hell, helped me be an actually _good_ person. I owe them everything I have.” She nodded to him. “So, should we just run fast to the swanky side of the city or can a girl hitch a ride?”

Michael nodded and opened up his arms for her. “Please, it would be my honor, Miss Richards. Any friend of Lucifer’s is a friend of mine. Well, perhaps not Maze. She hates me, but otherwise, all aboard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, first time I've gotten to write Charlotte. Fun to bring her in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer helps Trixie prep for her so-not-a-date with Ted, and she probes at trying to help him with his Devil-out problem.

**Chapter Seven**

Trixie was tired and had a long, shitty day in bio. There had been a pop quiz on the first three major kingdoms and she'd bombed everything fungi related because between getting kicked out of her sorority house, nearly drowning in the Mississippi, and arguing with the Sword of God, she might have skipped the reading. God, she hoped Maze and Taka had been too bored by her lecture to notice how upset she was. So, even though she'd promised to try the be normal thing this afternoon and, okay, had Ted coming to _Tenebrae_ first and then her sisters, Trixie was strongly considering canceling it and nursing her wounds with chocolate ice cream, Beelz, and her ridiculously comfy princess bed.

Then, she'd walked into a veritable explosion of a department store in Lucifer's apartment and more confusingly a small set up off by the Steinway a bit like a make-up booth at a salon.

The actual Hell?

Lucifer was carefully arranging outfit choices on the sofa when she coughed politely to let him know she was here. His wings perked up first and as he turned, his eyes grew bright and warm. Oh boy. The Devil was way more invested in her not-really-a-date than she was.

"Urchin! You're home. You know, we only have a few hours till your suitor calls."

She snorted. "Oh famously debauched owner of Lux, when did I become Elizabeth Bennett?"

He rolled his eyes, but his wings stayed stretched out wide behind him. "The cheek of you, child. I was being polite. Still, that Theodore of yours will be here soon enough and while we have a lot to work with, I need time to do my work."

Curious, Trixie set her backpack and windbreaker on her bed and went behind the bar long enough to pour herself a soda. Then, she sidled up next to Lucifer and evaluated the bounty of clothes some unlucky Lilim had clearly been sent to get. Taka tended to say yes a lot, so she figured her. Maze wouldn't bring her anything not made of leather so it was unlikely she was the culprit.

"Alright, I'll bite. When did you get your fairy godfather on?"

He winked at her. "I feel rather badly about my idiot twins continued idiocy. I am rooting for all this to work out, so I thought I'd give your date the Devil's touch."

"It's not really---"

"Tsk-tsk, urchin. I know you're mostly just school chums, but I figured I also owed you the best possible odds." He folded his wings in and gestured proudly to his loot. "Your coloring is assuredly an autumn, so I had Taka pick up different warm shades for you. We have ochre, some burnt sienna, red of course though that can be a bit obvious a choice, aubergine..."

She nodded as he droned on and looked over the mountain of clothes. She really had to explain better to Lucifer that he couldn't just spoil her when he felt guilty. That was hardly fair to him. However, if it made him happy tonight to be the fairy godfather to her Cinderella and if her one normal night got him off his "be more human" kick, then she'd go along with it. Her eyes scanned over deep crimson tank tops and burnt orange wrap dresses until they stopped and kept hovering over a deep violet top of a gauzy fabric with long bell sleeves. Reaching out, she picked it up but frowned at how low cut it would be on her frame.

"Oh, that's quite fetching, spawn. Good taste."

She shook her head. "I think I'd spill out."

Lucifer blanched at that and it was a little funny to be able to terrify the Devil, who, honestly, would be as happy to see her in something revealing as her dad. "Well, hazards of not having you go with Taka. It was worth the surprise though."

"I think I have a cami around. Should work."

He nodded. "Thank Dad then. I should not be getting heart attacks from you that way or any way actually, Beatrice." He turned toward the bar. "Get changed please whilst I'm upstairs, and I'll help you with your make up."

She sighed and balled the shirt up in her hands. "I thought that would take dexterity and uh less claws."

Lucifer eyed her over his shoulder as he proceeded to his stairs. "Thought ahead on that. I've been practicing! Yesterday when you were at the library and all day today. I'll show you some of the best tricks Cleo taught me. Seriously, offspring, chop chop."

She shook her head as he clomped up the stairs. He was definitely more excited about her so-not-a-date than she was. Then again, Ted was a nice guy. Had a bit of a dangerous streak like Javi, and his videos were pretty cool. Plus, okay, he was easy on the eyes.

Anyway, she wasn't expecting anything to happen. But some mother henning Devils sure were. How was he King of Hell again?

He'd have to work hard to be scarier than a Care Bear. She took back her original guess.

But it was awfully sweet, and Trixie hated to disappoint him. Quickly, she proceeded to her alcove. She took a few moments to pay Beelz on the nose through his cage bars though. "Sorry, bud. I have a thing tonight, but you and Luci could bond. I swear he's here to help."

Beelz glared at the steps behind the bar and chittered aggressively. 

"Right, well he only looks scary. He's actually super nice, just like you." 

Trixie turned to her dresser and wasted no time pulling out her favorite black leggings and a light yellow cami. She dressed quickly and called for Lucifer. While she waited for him to descend, she rummaged through her jewelry box for a gold lavalier with faux amethyst accent stones her abuela had given her for her last birthday.

She was mostly put together and shoving her hair up in a scrunchy when her, for lack of a dumber term, "step-devil" appeared. He nodded his approval and pointed to the chair at the make-up station.

"Lovely. Yes, already you'll knock Theodore on his backside. Now, sit child."

Curious as to what practicing had entailed, Trixie did as she was told. As she watched, Lucifer pulled a black velvet drape back from the table beside her, revealing multiple make up palettes and quite a few eyeliner pencils. They were attached of all crazy things to extremely long sticks, like those old timey cigarette holders from like 1930s movies.

"What?"

He demonstrated by grabbing the long holder which left the actual end of the pencil beyond the grasp of his claws. "Necessity is the mother of invention. I thought this might work, honestly, a while ago when you told me about my purloined necklace. However, thank Ezzekeen for my current dexterity with this contraption. He spent at least sixteen hours with me over the last two days, until I wasn't making him into a raccoon."

She frowned. "I thought Taka..."

"She said she'd only go so far. Besides, his skin tone is closer to yours and he thought if I perfected a look for him his on-again, off-again beau would approve."

"Ooh," she said. Closing her eyes as Lucifer started putting base onto her skin. "I didn't know he was dating."

Lucifer sighed as he continued with her foundation via what could kindly be described as the world's largest make up sponge. "It's touch and go with that one. The other Lilim are content to be hedonistic and non-committal, although there is this spy Mazikeen knows whom she meets up with at least yearly."

"That dude she saved in Canada?"

"Yup," he said, popping the p. "The Lilim can screw whomever they like."

"Charming, Luci."

"I prefer them to think of it that way, urchin. Entanglements do not work." He sighed again and exchanged the sponge for a compact to spread powder on her cheeks. "I learned that rather the hard way."

She opened her eyes and frowned at him. "Mom---"

"None of that now. We've our rules, urchin, and they serve us well, especially on your day. I merely meant that humans in general...they aren't made to understand the Infernal, what we are. They can't handle it, and it's perfectly natural." He shook his head and his eyes dimmed low. "Ez is setting himself up for heartbreak but I suppose then he'll learn."

"So, the off-again?"

"Secrets kill many things, child, even if you scream them from the roof tops." He offered her a painfully forced smile. "Now keep your eyes open wide and don't move. I've a great copper liner that will go perfectly for you."

She snorted. "I don't need to be fancy. I mean, I'm not coming out of this with dramatic Egyptian cat eyes, am I?"

"Tsk, tsk, offspring. I do, occasionally, understand moderation. You will be radiant when I'm done," he said picking up one of the long, cigarette holders.

Trixie swallowed and held still, not sure if hours or practice with Ez really would keep her Devil from accidentally poking her eye anyway. Besides, she never even futzed with eyeliner for herself. It was too complicated, and she didn't even have claws.

Still, he was trying so hard, so she had to take a deep breath and hope Luci knew what he was doing.

The pencil was delicate as it touched under eye, and she breathed more easily when it was lined up.

"I'll do bottom first, then top across the eyes. So, look up and try not to blink, child."

"Okay," she said, stifling the idiot urge to nod. “Did you really learn your make-up tricks from Cleopatra?”

He shrugged before bringing the pencil directly to touch against the skin under her left eye. “She was one of many. Fashion changes by the century, child, and I’ve had many teachers. She was an utter delight, that one, fiery and not as conventionally attractive, one supposes, as you’d believe. But I loved passing the time with her. And that Antony…”

She grumbled a little under her breath. Luci had so many stories and most he just alluded to, which was good, cause it was kind of like having an uncle tell you all about their wild youth. Of course, Trixie could fill in the blanks. “I don’t need that kind of info!”

“Well, she had great input,” he said, drawing the pencil with surprising grace across her lower lid before taking a break and moving onto the space under her right eye as well. “I promise I won’t leave you looking like you have cats’ eyes. I am aware _quite_ that much is out of vogue for most humans. More’s the pity.”

She chuckled. “It’s nice that you want to make this a great date, but Ted’s just a casual guy and, honestly, he’s my friend. I do his notes, and he sends me his video links. It’s…I mean…I haven’t really thought about finding dates lately. I probably should for the spring formal, you know, but I’ve been busy.”

“And that’s why I’m here. You’ve taken _far_ too much time with me of late and honestly, too much time obsessing over your miracle status.”

“Everything that bumps in the night in this city wants to dig their fangs into me, Luci. It’s pretty easy to think over the miracle thing. If I can jump start it…”

“But you’re already in my alcove, dealing with my problems and my extremely stupid brother, and Pachinsky has been a bit worried about your grades of late.”

Her jaw dropped. “I thought I said you couldn’t negotiate with my professors for grades!”

Lucifer’s eyes brightened and as he adjusted himself on his seat. “Close your eyes, urchin. I need to get the top lids. Besides,” he continued even as she complied. “I didn’t. Your chemistry professor and I have an understanding, but I needed some input and I merely put out feelers. He was happy to tell me about your progress and some areas that are stalling out. Admit it, I’m eating up too much of your time.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, but Trixie opted to keep them closed in case Lucifer slipped and she ended up with either a poked-out eye or looking like a raccoon. “You don’t. I just have a lot to do anyway---social stuff for Omega Chi, my classes, work study job…you’re just a part of that. And, honestly, with less vampires around to eat me, I think my semester _is_ going to get better.”

Lucifer huffed around her but finished with her eyeliner before stepping back. “Keep them closed, please. I’ve your shadow to do too.”

“Do you have a different stick for that?”

“Yes, actually,” he said, tone tight. “I…urchin, perhaps I overstepped.”

“If you could die, Luci, that would be written as the subtitle to your tombstone,” she said. “I get it. You’re worried about me. Really, you’d _think_ that having a demon as basically an older sister and Satan as a best friend would be cool. I mean, it _could_ be, but for right now, it’s more like I have an extra set of parents. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you and Maze do that talking-without-talking extra long looks thing.”

“Guilty as charged. While Mazikeen and I have had our ups and downs over the millennia, she is still my second in my view. I can read her with a glance, and that has served me well in more battles than you can rightly count.” Somehow, his declaration lacked the grave tone and severity when he was also pressing the sponge to her eyes to add whatever perfect “autumn” coloring he’d decided she needed.

“So, yeah, it’s like I have you and her _and_ Mom and Dad to deal with, and that’s really hard. I am nineteen, you know. I can make my own decisions.”

“What if they’re poor ones?”

She waited until he was done. and she had permission to open her eyes again before continuing. “You do get the deafening irony in that question, right? Some Devil you are. I thought you were pro-Free Will?”

“Of course, I am,” he said, hunting through the collection of make up on the side table. He picked up a bit of concealer and worked as diligently as he could with his claws to try to get the applicator tip to work, but he couldn’t quite grasp it and the long stick system wasn’t as great for it either.

Sighing a little, Trixie took a little bit of pity on Lucifer and took the concealer from him. “You can the foundation on the next part. Besides, I mean, let’s hope I don’t have _that_ many zits, k?”

“Of course, urchin,” he said, his eyes dimmer and she noticed the way he set his hands over his knees and away from her.

“I think my eyes came out okay so this idea and the whole thing with Ez was a pretty successful experiment. I mean, if you show me the mirror at the end, and I have a smoky eye-splosion, then I’m going to have to re-evaluate that.”

“Quite.”

She started working over her skin even as she regarded him and his slightly flagging wings. “Look…I just meant that you can’t have spent your whole life or let’s be real here _most of creation_ in a feud with your dad for telling you what to do, but you can’t trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

She glared at him as she finished up the concealer step and set the applicator on the table. “Debatable. Mom and Dad have one idea about what’s good for me, and you and Maze haven’t been exactly subtle. You know what’s really weird?”

“Do tell,” Lucifer prodded, grabbing and almost comically large sponge and adding base to it.

“You…all four of you want the same thing. I swear, you might even be more intense than my dad at least.”

“I’m not---”

She sighed even has he started applying the base to her cheeks. “No, but you definitely have this whole, I dunno, protect me cause I’m a miracle/now I’m bumming on your sofa so I’m your ward mentality thing going on. I mean, yeah, Dad’s got more chill.”

He pulled the sponge away and brought his hand to his chest even as his wings spread out comically wide behind him. “How dare you!”

“It’s _true_ though. God, you and Mom are basically on similar kicks with all your ideas about _my life_.” Trixie didn’t even realize what she’d said and how many landmines she’d crammed into one sentence before Lucifer stood up and made his way to the one corner of the sofa not crammed with a Neiman Marcus’s worth collection of clothes. “I…oh crap.”

He sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s unrealistic to avoid the Detective’s very mention as if she were Voldemort forever, child. Now, pray tell, what does your mum think is best for you? I’d very much like to hear that.”

She sighed and decided that it was good enough that Lucifer had gotten most of her make up done. Trixie had enough experience to take it from here, even as she looked for the right shade of lipstick and liner to go with her overall look. It was good to have the legitimate distraction so she could avoid looking him in the face.

“Mom _thinks_ I have a boyfriend and that he’s taking all my time. Of course, I don’t, but I guess…maybe…I have spent maybe more time at _Tenebrae_ than I had to.”

Lucifer quirked his head at her and she darted her head up just long enough to gulp under the scrutiny of those crimson eyes of his. “She does, does she?”

“Maze likes to call it babysitting. I think that’s the better analogy, but I can’t explain that to mom of course.”

“I’m hardly a child.”

“Neither am I!”

“I’m thirteen billion and you’re barely a blink in an eye and---”

She glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, Maze and I still want to keep an eye on you, you know? A lot of crappy stuff has happened and some of that is your dad.”

“All of it always is.”

She shook her head and tried hard not to cry because then they’d have to start all over again, and it was hard enough getting through the make-up gauntlet the first time. “No, it’s not. I mean, yeah, your dad sucks, but some of it is my family’s fault, you know?”

“I highly _doubt_ that. Your parents and I---”

“You’d still be you, if you’d never met my mom, and we both know it. You made a crappy choice, okay? Cain was apparently a grade A psycho, which checks out cause first murderer, but you were pretty much pressed into a bad decision and you’re gonna pay for it for eternity if I can’t fix it. But if you’d never ever met Mom, you’d be okay! How can I not feel like shit about that?”

Lucifer sighed and surprised her a little by standing up and reaching delicately for the mounds of reject clothes. He got through moving a couple bundles before his claws caught on a burnt sienna tunic top and he growled his frustration. Trixie’s heart twisted as she watched him struggle and fail to flick it off his claws. Eventually, furious, he shredded it with is free hand until the dark silk fell to the floor.

Trixie stood then, all the fight full leeched from her, and walked over to him. Setting a hand on his shoulder (well as close as she could reach to his shoulder), she gave it a squeeze. “Luci…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

His eyes were dim, but he offered her a small, sad smile. “You misunderstand me, offspring. I was clearing a place for you beside me. I didn’t intend to get bloody caught up in everything, but the claws giveth and the claws taketh away.”

  
She laughed at that and helped him clear enough space so she could do as asked and sit beside him. “I…you’re still you.”

His wings flicked behind him and he sighed again. “I doubt that is exactly true. However, urchin, I’m more worried that you feel you have to _save_ me. I took the burden on myself. I was the one who _wanted_ the vengeance that badly. Honestly, I was the thick sod who even made a promise to Cain in the first bloody place.”

She frowned, that small niggling part in the back of her brain that she felt sometime was her detective instinct (if she wanted it) was screaming at her. He’d mentioned that before, how he’d never turned away from fulfilling a favor, no matter what it cost him.

“What? You promised him you could kill him?”

Lucifer laughed and it hurt to hear, made her wish she could fix all of this for him right away. “I was dumber then, far more naïve, even though a decade should not make such a difference in an immortal lifespan. At first, when I realized _who_ he was, Cain wasn’t threatening your parents. I suppose I should have realized that his utter bunk of a story about the Sinnerman only being about an underling gone rogue of late was just lies, but I just…I thought we had a vested interest. He wanted to die, and I wanted to piss Father off.” He shook his head and his wings twitched again, the large spikes arching toward the ceiling. “I have learned since then that Father’s punishments can always _get worse_.”

“Did you kill him to finish the favor?”

“No, I did it because we both know that I can’t stop what’s in me, not now, and he was threatening my miracle…or your mother felt like she was _mine_ at the time. Wasn’t bloody thrilled with him killing Charlotte or the way Cain would always pose a serious threat to Miss Lopez or your father, either. He had to be ended.”

Trixie considered that and let the quiet linger between them. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that. “I think you did the right thing. I…if I’d had any powers or like the kind of strength you and Maze had…with what Cain did? Man, I’d have done it too.”

Lucifer’s eyes glittered dangerously back at her. “I hope that isn’t true, Beatrice. It has wrought _nothing_ but agony since. You don’t deserve Hell. It would be perpetual torment for me and Mazikeen both if you ended up there.”

“I can’t. Michael said all miracles are blessed enough we can’t go to Hell.” She took a shuddering breath and reminded herself not to cry, that of all stupid things Ted would be here soon, and she couldn’t face him looking like a drowned rat. “I know you say I wouldn’t like so many things---if I stood up for you and your dad got mad and did something to me too or that I’d hate Hell, but you two are my best friends. How am I supposed to have a good after life if you’re not there?”

Lucifer spread out his right arm and wing wide and she slid under them, tension in her easing further to feel the warmth of his leathery skin on her own. “Child, you just…you may not have liked how Mikey explained it, but he’s not wrong. You don’t deserve Hell. It’s _punishment_.”

“I don’t know how to do anything or how to feel. Mom wants me to focus on school and to just be responsible. You kind of want that too plus being sure I have plenty of human friend time and ‘beaus’ as you call them cause of course this is some Regency England shit.”

“Beaus have their charms,” Lucifer reminded her.

“And it would be nice to be normal, but, Luci, I just _look_ normal. I’m _not_. I need you to get that too. I understand that I have so much guilt about what happened to you that isn’t really mine because it’s all on Cain and your dad. It’s irrational to feel it, but I do, cause I just wish your life didn’t suck.”

He sighed and hugged her tighter. “It doesn’t the same way it used to. Child, you can walk away from all of this tomorrow. I could get you any flat you like near campus and you can just forget me and Mazikeen and Taka and Ez and _all_ of it. You can stop hunting for Father’s unasked for gift and just be like everyone else. I’ve no idea why you wouldn’t take that. Honestly, when the Devil, Hell’s best torturer, and two detectives all agree on something, then it must be a good idea. We’re too disparate to agree otherwise.”

She nodded and it was getting warm wrapped up like this, and Trixie wondered if this was how burritos felt. “But I’m still _not_ actually normal.”

“Currently, you’re no different than your mother. If you just---”

“But _I know_ , and she doesn’t. I can’t just forget this and pretend I’m 100% normal human cause heaven and hell are real, and no matter how I feel about it I know I have a first class fast pass to heaven when the time comes cause I’m just the tiniest fleck divine. It _is_ weird, Luci, and it’s all I think about, all the time. Kind of hard not to after vamps keep trying to eat me over it. A date or a girls’ night…I’m not gonna forget I’m whatever your dad made me if I have a hundred of those.”

Lucifer pulled his wing back and gently kissed the top of her head. Standing, he went back to the make-up table and picked up a lipstick and liner of his choice. “These will go best, child. I’ve something for you in my room. Allow me to grab it so we can be sure and render young Theodore speechless.”

“So, we’re at an impasse?” she asked, sniffing a little but still not turning on the water works.

“No, but I was the one who made the worst mistake of all. I never should have told you what you are. It would have been infinitely better for your sake if I had not.”

“Well, either way, Alistair already chomped on me and it was gonna spread. I just…I know you want me to be normal because you think you can’t be. I see that you sort of also have this mix of big brother or step-dad or I dunno worry about me _and_ kind of want to be vicariously average through me, Lucifer, but I’m just not any other human.”

“Your mother has survived because---”

“What do you know about my mom?” she asked, her voice gaining a bit of a shrill edge to it that she hated.

He blinked back at her, eyes glittering like rubies. “Excuse me?”

“What do you know about Mom now? It’s been a decade. She’s different, and sure, she’s perfectly normal in that she can’t _do anything_ weird cause she missed her window, but you think being a miracle doesn’t affect her every damn day?”

“She’s away from the otherworldly so I assumed that things were better.”

Trixie hopped to her feet and started to pace. She was so very tired of four adults (well three and a Lucifer) who kept telling her that she didn’t know anything. She did too. “They are now but it took a long time. She had nightmares for _years_ , Lucifer. Dad almost pulled out of the remarriage thing because he was trying to leverage it, like say he wouldn’t till she got therapy too. He thought—hell, even I thought---that it was all because her fiancé turned out to be a crime lord who almost shot her, and she couldn’t cope. That’s bad enough.”

“Urchin, I am sorry---”

She threw up her hands and kept pacing. “No, you want to assume Mom’s fine and it’s all sunshine and roses because she has no idea about being a miracle. Well, for a long time, stuff was really fucked up and she did go to therapy but I’m _pretty fucking sure_ she didn’t mention her former partner, and I dunno, almost boyfriend…um, ish was literally the Devil. I’m gonna bet hard on that since she’s not in a mental hospital!”

He flinched and hunched his shoulders. “I never meant---”

“Of course, you didn’t. But things found her anyway, you know? And I don’t mean you. I mostly mean that a crazy immortal first sinner murdering asshole tried to use her then kill her. That’s fucked up, and Cain only cared because she was a miracle. So, no, Mom’s not really normal. I’m definitely not normal, and I’d rather be able to do _something_ than be a sitting duck.”

Lucifer let out a low, mournful rumble. “Beatrice, I am so very sorry for the harm I brought on you and your family. I wish you understood my side. I strongly believe that if you were away from me that your life would be better, that your family’s life would _stay_ better, and going back to mostly staying around humans is paramount.”

“I’m _not_ just another human, Luci.”

“Miracles are hardly demons, one would think. I just…you deserve better. You deserve more than Maze and the Lilim…than me.”

She stopped pacing and set her hands on her hips. “That’s my whole point, Luci. _I_ get to decide that. I get to decide who I am and what I can do and the life I want to lead. I want to figure out what I am as a miracle, and I would never leave you all now. I can’t.”

“You very well should. Constantine isn’t wrong. He’s not a bloody psychic but he’s not wrong either. I drag everyone down with me, and I’m terrified that whether it’s my father’s wrath or something _other_ trying to get to me or my own sodding stupidity, that I will drag you down with me.”

She frowned and the next words tumbled from her mouth before she could even stop them. “Why do you hate yourself so much?”

It shocked her a little that Lucifer doubled over laughing then, a shrill giggle erupting from his lips. “Oh, that’s quite rich, child. Have you working eyeballs? How could I not?”

“No, I’m serious. I mean, you had like mad rage issues back when I was a kid. I mean, so did Maze, but I notice stuff too, and you weren’t like well that glued together even then. So, I mean, you really do hate yourself and think you’re awful. You’re _not_!”

“And this is why I tell you what you _should_ do, offspring, because you’re only nineteen and so very young in our world. Everyone blames me when their lives go wrong, for the sins they couldn’t resist, for the evil at the very core of their being they try and will away. Even when I try to do good like for your parents, it ends in disaster and pain. There is nothing to like in that.”

She sighed and eased back over to him. This time, she brought her hand up to stroke the arch of his wing as far as she could. “Luci, you’re not what you think you are at all. I mean it. My parents did like you. I know Miss Ella liked you. I…you still saved my life and mom’s life when no one else could have. I see how you are here, how you _try_. Your dad probably set you up and Cain didn’t help with that much, and you still try every day to keep me safe, even though, dude, I super only need one dad.”

“Debatable, urchin. You’ve an appalling lack of self-preservation instinct,” he said, offering her a small smile.

“Ha, sure, get the jokes out,” she replied. “I just mean…even here you save me all the time, which I’m working on cause I want to kick ass like you and Maze and Taka and stuff, but you even tried to fish me out of the Mississippi.”

“I failed in that regard. My wings are rather heavy when soaked and we’re both fortunate old Mikey was listening for help.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure since you don’t like sticky, squalling messes and children and all that other crap that you’re gonna just blow me off, but, Luci, you’re a good friend and I mean, if your life had been really freaking different, I dunno, you would have been a good dad or older brother or whatever. I mean, I don’t think we’re exactly the dynamic duo of Batman and Robin over here, but you’re a pretty good mentor, you know?”

“Urchin, it’s truly kind of you to think so and---”

“Just take the compliment, Satan, please.” She reached up with her free hand and squeezed the side of his arm, ignoring the way it tore into her heart to feel the scarred, torn flesh beneath her palm. “You’re better than you think you are.”

He sighed and reached for her hand to try and pull it away and then they both froze. Because his free arm was anything but scarred and taloned. “I…what?” Lucifer held his hand out in front of him as his eyes grew wide. “Beatrice, please tell me I’ve not started hallucinating.”

Trixie gulped hard and felt her heart pounding in her chest. She freed her phone from her jeans and snapped a few pictures, something she could show Maze and the other angels later for proof, before shoving it aside and reaching out to touch his arm. It was lasting longer than his eyes had, but she was so scared it wasn’t real too. But when he fingers reached out to smooth, unblemished skin, highlighted haphazardly by freckles, Trixie gasped.

“I…no, it’s real. I told you! Keep doing whatever you’re doing, Luci.”

“I don’t know _what_ I’m bloody well doing,” he growled back. “I don’t know what I did at all.”

She gripped his hand and held it in a grasp that probably was too tight, but she could hardly believe it either. “You actually listened to me for once.”

His wings fluttered behind him in his irritation. “Beatrice, I’m quite serious.”

“So am I! You _are_ good, Lucifer, and I think you spend so much time hating yourself over mistakes and then things you can’t even control that you’ve lost sight of that. I mean it,” she said, looking up at him, at crimson eyes that blazed even now with living hellfire. “You’re my hero, and you saved me and my mom so how could you not be good?”

She yipped but still held his hand even as the red, raw skin swept over his arm, starting with his shoulder. Trixie dug her fingers harder into his palm as if her grip could somehow stop it, but that wasn’t her stupid miracle power either. Still, even under her grasp, the skin there grew waxy and raw, and this time tears sprang to her eyes, ruining the job he’d so thoughtfully done for her.

“I…don’t understand,” she offered, wishing they’d been able to make the change stick and spread.

Lucifer said nothing even as his fingers bent and twisted again and claws at least six inches long erupted from the nail beds. Instead, his wings drooping behind him, he tromped up the stairs to his room. Sighing, Trixie turned back to the ersatz station by the piano and worked to redo her make-up as best she could. It probably wasn’t as good as what Lucifer would have wanted but at least she was raccoon free as the clock moved closer to seven. She honestly didn’t expect to see Luci again for the rest of the night, but he surprised her by working his way back down the stairs about a half hour later with a small box in his hands.

“I thought you might need some rest,” she offered.

“I think perhaps after such a row we both may.” He sighed and set the box on the top of his Steinway. “Beatrice, I want to trust your judgement. Believe me, I do. I’ve no interest in being a hypocrite, but I care deeply about you, and if something were to happen because I let you choose wrong…I would never forgive myself.”

“I think that’s part of being a mentor or ‘step-devil’ or whatever.”

Lucifer considered that. “Maze came up with the latter term. It’s hardly an apt moniker as that never came to pass and surely won’t now.”

“I guess we’ll stick with you’re the Batman to my Robin, then,” she said, winking.

He arched his wings and shook his head. “How dare you!”

“So, you don’t want to the Dark Knight?”

“I’m far more impressive than some orphan with a flying rodent complex. Please, child.”

“Fine,” she said, eying the box. “Luci, you have to let me go a little. I’m not seven.”

“I know, but I…at least try to keep up ties to the human world, Beatrice. I do not ask that for me. My time passing amongst most mortals has well and truly ended. However, I beseech this from you for your own benefit. Time moves faster than you realize, and in a decade or two, I do not wish for you to regret what you’ve lost by befriending only demons. I…you’re very wrong, spawn.”

“Well, I should try and hang out with Annie and Lettie more, and, okay, Ted is pretty cute too.”

Lucifer shook his head. “I meant that I’m _not_ a hero here. If you knew some of the things I’d done, even now, you’d despise me to. I know this.”

“Dude, I have the _Gray’s Anatomy_. I do get it. You like tortured a hell of a lot of souls and stuff. It’s gross but so has Maze and I don’t hold it against her. I probably should, but I’m weird, you know?”

His jaw ticked a bit and he clenched it for a while before he relaxed and spoke again. “No, that’s hardly it. It’s nice that you think I’m good, spawn, but you don’t know all I’ve done even whilst in Los Angeles, and I am not a hero. I’m not even a good person. If anything, I’m poison.”

“That’s a shitty name, you know. Your dad really sucks.”

He laughed but there was no actual humor in it. Trixie knew the differences in his moods by now. “That is a universal truth, child. You don’t know me, even now, and I’m as venomous as my original name implies. It’s the way it is.”

She shook her head. “That’s bullshit, Lucifer. I mean, I’m not a kid so just tell me the worst!”

“No, for tonight we shall table your miracle research or trying to fix me. You’ve a suitor waiting, and you look far too lovely to leave Theodore high and dry.” He smiled and it struck her again that her life really was weird. Not a bad weird, just kind of FUBAR’ed. The rictus grin and yellowed teeth would probably freak most people out, but she was relieved to see Lucifer mellow and grow less upset. “Urchin, please open the box, would you?”

She nodded and whistled at the butterfly hair pin she pulled from it. It was gold in color and highlighted with pink and purple stones, went perfectly with Abuela Minnie’s lavalier. “Was this some amazing trinket from Elizabeth the I or Catherine the Great?”

He smirked at her. “Not everything I own is heirloom child. This is, at best, a bit of cut glass and perhaps from some kiosk at a Southern California mall. I have had many guests over the years who leave things behind and people who merely had left items at lost and found at the bar. This is the latter. It was too striking to bin when no one ever came back for it at _Lux_ , so I brought it here. I thought it would tie everything together for you.”

“Wait so this isn’t like a souvenir or a trophy, right?”

“Hardly, if memory serves Patrick the bartender almost sat on it before realizing it was on a barstool. Don’t be daft, spawn. I have some boundaries and taste. This was just lost at _Lux_ , nothing more.”

She grinned and slipped the clip into her hair, using it to pull her long, dark waves into a half-ponytail. “Thanks. I…are you coming to introduce yourself to Ted and stuff?”

“No, I think I shall need a few moments. Besides, I hardly wish to hover, Beatrice. I trust you can charm your boy quite readily.”

She nodded and eyed him. “Bring it in, Batz. I owe you a lot for the whole makeover.”

“Yes, well, _Robin_ , I am sure there wasn’t much hugging in that dreck comic strip involved.”

“They’re called graphic novels now, Grandpa.” She said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek when he leaned down for her. “Thanks, okay, I admit it, I do need this. I’m excited.”  
  


He nodded. “Well, go knock him dead, child. However, be aware that I don’t mind being a hypocrite on relationships currently. If you even think of bringing him up here for the night, I’ll feed Theodore to Welkior, the Lilim who’s seven feet tall with the three jaws’ worth of shark’s teeth.”

“Hey!”

“Deal with it, urchin. You still have some virtue. I intend to help keep that intact for your parents’ sakes, distant as they are from the hustle and bustle of the Big Easy.”

She rolled her eyes as she made her way to the stairs. “Free Will this and I trust you that. ‘Blah blah blah.’ I’m not like, ugh…come on!”

He smirked. “My house, my rules.”  
  


“Lame, Satan, I take it back; you got demoted. You’re so _not_ Batman. You’re definitely like the worst step-devil ever.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Trixie has a date...or tries to with Lilim and Satan hovering around.

**Chapter Eight**

Trixie wanted to groan when she came down the stairs and found Maze, Taka, and Ez sitting at a booth and eying her from across the floor at _Tenebrae_. It was dinner time at the club, and bustling but not overly loud, not like when the parade happened, but she didn’t appreciate that her friends had staked out the booth where she told Ted she’d meet him. She liked even less that Maze was very deliberately spinning her demon blades in both hands. All three were decked out in more leather than rejects from an _Underworld_ film, and Trixie wasn’t sure if that was to enjoy the club on their off night or because the three of them were going hunting for their respective prey later.

She hoped it was the latter because Trixie needed to have the not-really-a-date go well and having a bunch of demons with knives trying to intimidate Ted probably wasn’t going to help her.

She slid into the booth besides Taka who whistled appreciatively. “Trix, you look hot. I wasn’t really sold on what the king made me go get, but you look amazing.”

Ez shrugged. “Leather would have been better.”

She glared at the three of them but let her eyes linger over Maze’s knife play. It was basic stuff she’d learned by third grade, but for the average human, it would be intimidating and Maze damn well knew that. “Guys, you don’t have to crowd. I have a step-devil upstairs fussing over my look but also laying down a no-boys curfew later tonight---”

Maze laughed. “Lucifer did that? That’s so ridiculous. Dude has done everything in his life and invented tons of shit after that when he got bored. Don’t listen, Trix. If this dude isn’t a total douche when we meet him, I say have all the fun you want. You can come to Taka’s and my floor.”

Trixie grumbled. “Um, thanks, Maze, but I think all of your throwing stars and scimitars and demon blades might freak him out.”

Taka winked. “Don’t forget the practice dummies with like a million knife holes in them.”

“Yeah, thanks, Taka,” Trix said. “Guys, come on. It’s my first date-like thing with Ted. You all are, let’s be real, _a lot_. I mean Maze looks like she’s about to bounty hunt Ted right now.”

“Does he have outstanding warrants because maybe if the price is right and also go Trix!” Maze said.

She frowned. Technically, she thought he might have been in trouble for breaking into the construction site by the New Orleans remains of their trade center, but really it wasn’t exactly the usual narcotics and arson type and murders that Maze usually hunted. “Not really.”

Ez whistled again. “Man, I had you pegged wrong, Espinoza. I thought you were all sweet and pure and miracle-y except for totally somehow cheating at poker.”

“You have the worst poker face ever, Ez,” she replied.

“Anyway,” he continued. “You’ve definitely got a lawless streak, I can tell. The whole theme park stuff you and our Lord do together. Vandalism is a gateway drug and now the boyfriend with a record. I’m impressed!”

“I don’t think he really has a record per se---”

Taka nodded. “I approve already.”

“Can we not like have a five-way date, guys, come on!” Trixie said.

“Hey, uh, Trixie is everything okay?” Ted asked.

She sighed and turned to see him as he hovered behind her at the booth. He’d actually dressed up, well for him. His jeans were the type that didn’t have any rips at the knees for once and his dark blue shirt complimented his brown skin, a shade or two darker than Maze’s, and his dark brown eyes seemed to light up when he saw her. In one hand, he even had a modest bouquet of daisies and irises.

She stood up and glared at the demons. Taka and Ez took the hint and hopped up. Maze just spun her knives even more. “No, it’s okay. These are some of my friends who help run _Tenebrae_. The guy’s Ez and the girl who actually bothered to stand is Taka, and she’s,” Trixie nodded toward Maze who made a throat slitting motion with one dagger. “is Mazikeen. Don’t take her too seriously; she sometimes takes time to warm to people.”

Maze shrugged. “You’re cute, and you like some B&E. I think you’re promising.” She stood and edged over to Ted, who at least had a few inches on Maze. Of course, if Maze wanted to knock him flat on his ass, she’d be able to do it before Ted could even blink of course. “You break her heart or hurt her in anyway though, and I’ll throw you in a swamp to be eaten by gators. You get that, right?”

He gulped and looked between the three demons who all regarded him with dead seriousness (because of course they were fucking serious). It was oddly sweet but probably wouldn’t earn her a second probably-not-a-date with Ted. “I totally get it. I’d never.”

Maze smiled and it was somehow worse that she did that, as predatory as it ever was on a hunt. She pushed the tip of one dagger blade to the edge of his shirt collar. “See that you don’t.” Then, Mazikeen winked at her and then put her arms around her siblings’ shoulders. “Come on, let’s enjoy the night off. Let young puppy love blossom and all that. Trix, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She giggled and even did that dumbass snort thing she sometimes did, which was so embarrassing. There was literally _nothing_ Maze wouldn’t do. “I couldn’t possibly even come up with that list.”

Maze nodded. “Exactly.”

She watched the demons blessedly exit _Tenebrae_. Then, standing up, she took the bouquet from his hands and gave him a hug. “Thanks, that’s really sweet.”

Ted swallowed and slid into the booth seat across from her. “Your friends are, um, really something.”

“That’s one way to put it. I’m sorry. They’re pretty protective, and they just wanted to scope you out first. I’m warning you now that the owner, my friend Lucifer, is going to come down some time tonight and be even more embarrassing.” _And terrifying_. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Nah, I have three older sisters. I get it. It’s sweet your friends have your back.” He smiled and picked up the menu to read over. “I…so I have to say I noticed that an ‘Espinoza_101 keeps liking and leaving pretty enthusiastic comments on the backlogs of my UrbanEx vids. The getting into a fight in the comments section with someone who called my JazzLand stuff staged was a nice touch.”

“Well, it _wasn’t_ fake. And it’s how you got tetanus!” She blushed. “How is that going, by the way?”

“Good! Doctors cleared me for school actually in class after spring break. I’m not even having the tight jaw cramps anymore.”

The waiter came by, and Trixie ordered her favorite Cajun shrimp tacos and an appetizer of cornbread for them both. Ted put in a bid for some jambalaya, and Trixie figured that could affect any making out later, but too many Creole spices were worth risking for dimples like his.

_Wait. Shit, Lucifer had me pegged all along_.

Well, she’d tell him that over her dead body and way later if the date worked out. He did not need the satisfaction of knowing that she actually was enjoying the date and starting to see Ted in a different way with him cleaned up and not just in his dorm.

When the menus were gone, she was pleasantly surprised to have him grab her hand over the tabletop. “If you don’t need a note taker anymore, I guess that we won’t see each other as much.”

Ted grinned and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “I definitely wouldn’t say that.”

“I…um,” she felt her cheeks warm again. “I got up to your last video before, uh, the tetanus. The Municipal Auditorium looks like it was pretty cool.”

“Yeah, my half-brother says it was super cool before it was ruined. I just…I’m glad you like my vids. I’m thinking of starting my own Youtube channel for other things besides just the exploring since, uh, I can’t afford to get more weird infections. I have this idea for a movie review channel for like zombie flicks and---”

**

Trixie spent the next hour laughing with him and giving him a list of her favorite zombie films. She definitely wanted to make sure if he went through with the idea that she was both asked to guest on a broadcast or two and suggested things like _Anna and the Apocalypse_ and _Juan of the Dead_ , as they were lost gems. But mostly, it was nice to have time to just sit, laugh with a cute guy who, okay, was a little bit dangerous or at least not the type of dude her mom and dad would have liked cause of the B&E, and just feel like everything wasn’t life and death. And damn, now she’d have to admit that Luci was right twice in a night and that would so go to his head.

Ugh.

They were working into a heaping helping of bread pudding (one dish, two spoons), when a low, rumbling cough sounded behind them. Trixie rolled her eyes. Next time, she was staking out a different booth so people would stop getting the drop on her.

“Well, this must be young Theodore,” Lucifer said, eyes glittering brightly, and his wings stretched out a bit behind him, grazing the next booths over. “It’s a pleasure, I assure you.”

Ted’s eyes were wide, and he frowned at Lucifer’s wings. “Wow, I…I’ve never been the club before. Everyone says that the show’s unreal and if this is the make-up stuff. Dude, seriously, are the wings like animatronic?”

Lucifer’s smile stiffened, but he recovered quickly and pulled them tightly to his back. “They’re a unique and very proprietary set. I’m rather glad you like them. I admit I’m indifferent at best, but there are certain things one expects of Satan, are there not?”

Ted nodded and stood. Without even asking, he reached out to touch Luci’s shoulder. “Whoa, this is some next level make-up stuff. My cousin has worked on some movies out in Georgia and like _Walking Dead_ sequel series and stuff. This is…wow, your stuff is good.”

Trixie stood fast and helped ease his hand away before her date made the wrong impression on the Prince of Darkness, which was a risk in her life at least. “Hey, yeah, it’s like Luci said, the uh effects and stuff are sort of trade secrets, you know?”

Lucifer’s eyes glittered dangerously. “It is rather rude to touch without asking, Theodore.”

“I…yeah, sorry, dude, but your stuff’s amazing. I heard the parade’s one of the kind.” Ted looked between the two of them. “Trix, is that true?”

She nodded. “Oh, don’t get Luci started. He’s the star of the show, and he just loves to go on and on about that, don’t you?”

This time, his eyes gleamed more with humor than anger and consternation. “Yes, urchin. What can I say? I’m one of a kind.”

Ted nodded. “Cool, I cannot wait for this tonight. This place is dope, definitely. Well, except---”

Lucifer’s wings flicked a bit. “What could possibly be lacking at _Tenebrae_? It’s quite accurate to Biblical descriptions, I assure you.”

“Yeah, but I guess I figured there’d be horns at least? That’s pretty much Devil 101.”

Lucifer’s eyes practically went nova, and Trixie stroked the inside of his nearest wing. “I _loathe_ goats, and I’ve never had horns. It’s all libelous tripe.”

“Lucifer, you can be less method acting somewhere else, right? Can’t we just get back to our date?”

The Devil considered her request but held out his hand and waited patiently for her date to do the same. She had to give Ted mad credit for actually doing it. A lot of lesser people would be scared by now, even with the schtick that came with _Tenebrae_. However, it could also be because Ted had turned out to be a total horror movie buff. Or the pot. Probably the pot.

“Charmed, Theodore. Now tell me, what is it you desire?”

“Luci! You promised!”

Ted, of course as all humans did in Luci’s grasp, grew scattered and his eyes vacant. “I’d really like to get to know Trixie better. She’s pretty cool, and I have been thinking about her all semester.”

“And do you want---”

Trixie decided the Devil was _way_ overstepping and elbowed him in the ribs. He yipped, surprised at actual pain probably, and the moment was over. Ted, who seemed not to remember being _desired_ at all, blinked back at her.

“Huh, I…yeah great costume, man. Can’t wait for the parade.”

“Exactly,” Trixie said. “You need to get prepped, right, Satan?”

Lucifer rubbed his side. “I’ve told you about muscling the Demiurge, child.”

“If you and Michael weren’t dumbasses---”

“Well, Beatrice, Theodore, have a nice evening. I’ll be watching of course, so do be on your best behavior, lad.” With that, Lucifer turned and headed to the bar to mix drinks, as she’d seen him do the first time she’d come to the club.

He never had since, but she wasn’t surprised either. Lucifer was using it as the thinnest excuse for eavesdropping ever.

Ted shook his head, probably a little out of it still from the _desire_ mojo, but sat and offered her a besotted smile. “Trix, your friend’s pretty cool.”

She sat back in her seat and glared at the Devil mixing what looked like a rum and Coke for some dude in flannel at the bar. “Oh, he’s something alright.”

“Trixie, this place really is cool!” Annie called out from the front door.

Trixie stood again and slid into the booth beside Ted, grinning a little when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He smelled super nice, like sandalwood, and she felt really comfortable like this. Maybe she could possibly take Maze up on the her floor after hours offer. Maybe Ted wouldn’t notice the stash of ninja weapons everywhere. Possibly.

Annie who was wide-eyed at everything in _Tenebrae’s_ décor and Lettie, who seemed oddly stone faced, took up residence in the booth that she’d vacated. “Seriously, this place was always so crowded when I tried to visit and it seems overpriced and too touristy.”

“I drink free and Luci… _Luke_ will comp you guys if I ask. No worries,” Trixie added. “But usually, sure, it’s definitely overpriced and touristy. But it’s pretty _damn_ cool too.”

Annie giggled. “Emphasis on the damn, right?”

She nodded and waved to Lucifer whose eyes were shining brightly and wings relaxed behind his back. He had moved onto mixing a few margaritas at the blender and seemed, even with his special considerations, to be handling it all fine. “Hey! Luke! Can you get Annie and Lettie soemthing special?”

He nodded and she knew he’d hear her because he could basically hear _anything_ , which was part of why he and Beelz were mortal enemies anyway. Then, the Prince of Darkness went back to slinging drinks because of course he did.

“Hey, Trix, I’m sober sister tonight. I just…maybe let Annie and Ted pick up the drinks? I just want a seltzer anyway,” Lettie said, and she was looking around the room as if she expected a bunch of poisonous snakes or scorpions to explode out of the walls.

_Or demons…shit._

She nudged Ted with her shoulder. “Good idea. Hey, you and Annie get the drinks, k? I think Lettie must be tired.”

Ted nodded and kissed her lips, and she melted a lot because it was her first kiss since Javi and Trixie almost didn’t want to let him go just then. But Lettie clearly _knew_ exactly where she was, and Trixie had to diffuse the situation.

“Please,” she said, forcing herself to pull back and squeeze Ted’s shoulder again. “It’ll take like five minutes.” Then she eyed the line that had started to collect as they grew closer to nine. “Or maybe ten, k?”

“Sure, babe,” he said and, okay, it sounded very nerdy but she also kind of loved the pet name thing, and maybe she’d been more than friendly with Ted when visiting him with notes than she’d realized.

Trixie watched them both sidle up to the bar and the line about six deep before Luci. Then, she turned her attention to her sister. “Lettie, look whatever you think is going on here---”

She glared at Lucifer who was shaking a martini because of course he was. “He’s actually the Devil, isn’t he?”

“I…”

“And Michael’s the archangel Michael, right?”

“Well…”

Lettie shook her head and pulled out her purse. It was her usual one that was big enough to shove her laptop into and that surprised Trixie a little because this was so a venue for a clutch at night. Then, Lettie dug deep and handed Trixie a golf shirt coated in blood. One she’d seen before because it had been Michael’s on Sunday night.

“Either this is the hangout for the real Old Scratch and a lot of weird supernatural shit is going on here, or your club owners are serial killers. Trix, that’s a damn ear!” she hissed unfolding the shirt enough to remind Trixie of the viscera on it. “I was terrified it was serial killers, but I see him…I’ve never been here either cause I do not pay 20 bucks for an appletini ever, but I can tell. I…holy shit, Trixie, what have you gotten yourself into?”

She eyed the bar in a panic. Lucifer was talking with the people in line about two ahead of Ted and Annie, but there wouldn’t be much time soon. Frantically, Trixie turned back to her Big. “I can explain everything, I swear, but put that away. I… _you’re right_ , okay.”

“I know I am. I can _see_ it.”

“I…huh?”

“One of my great aunts always said she was a witch and I had the sight too. I never thought much of it, but this place, Trix, is messed up. I _know_ , but how the fuck are you bffs with the Devil and, also, are you insane?”

“I…I can explain. We can meet at the fountain on campus before I go to the discipline hearing on Saturday but not here. Annie and Ted don’t know and Lucifer’s, well, he’s harmless. Michael’s more of an idiot than anything else. Yeah, they’re mixed up with my family and have been for a while, but I don’t think Ted or Annie could handle this. I mean, Cheryl _couldn’t_.”

“She knew?”

“Yeah, long story. I just…Lettie we can talk about all of it Saturday. You just have to believe me now. That’s a vampire ear on that shirt. Michael’s a total straight arrow and wouldn’t hurt anyone, and Lucifer’s like a really weird overgrown twelve-year-old. He wouldn’t hurt anyone either.”

A crash sounded from the bar and they both looked back to see Lucifer grumbling a little and grabbing for a broom. He’d accidentally knocked over a tumbler with one of his wings. It was the most mundane of things, and nothing like one would expect of the (former) King of Hell.

Lettie eyed that and shook her head. “Saturday, Trix, but you owe me the best explanation ever, because, girl, seriously, I’m worried about your soul.”

She laughed and set her head in her hands. “Honestly, Lettie, that’s the last thing you have to worry about. I’ve got a free pass to heaven, I promise.”

_And I’m not sure I even want it._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charlotte and Michael come to an agreement in the Silver City.

**Chapter Nine**

If Michael thought that he had been stared at in the human section or even earlier amongst the younger Host, he’d been wrong. When he landed outside the palace and let Ms. Richards to her feet, he received death glares---there was no other word for it---from several of his siblings, including Remiel and Castiel. Ms. Richards, for her part, straightened her hair back in its ponytail and smoothed down her cream-colored sweater over her jeans. Then, she offered his little sister a smile that was oddly calculating.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sure most of you angels have seen humans before. Amenadiel isn’t unique in that, is he?”

Remiel shook her head and glared at him. It was as much insolence as she dared to show to one of the interregnum, but it was more than any of the rest of the Host would dare. “Michael, humans do not eat here. When Amenadiel visits this one, he goes to the human side of the city.”

Ms. Richards nodded and set her hand on Michael’s forearm. “Well, we’re mixing up the rules a little.”

Michael nodded. “Ms. Richards is a friend of Amenadiel’s and mine.”

Technically that last part was a bit of a stretch, but she had more insight into Samael’s life in Los Angeles, and Michael was desperate to understand more. If the miracle was even a tiny percent right and there was a chance to help his brother get better, well, the answers would be found in those final days in L.A. before everything turned into a nightmare for all of them.

“Yes,” Castiel added, his voice sing-songing a bit. “but, Brother, it’s just not done.”

“There have never been rules against it, and would you deny me this when I’m home so rarely?” Michael continued.

Remiel shook her head and a truly sour expression came across her face. “It would be like dining with a chimpanzee.”

Ms. Richard’s grin grew razor sharp. “Better a monkey than a Dodo bird, I’d think.”

Raphael strode down the hallway and shook his head as he met them all in the antechamber. “Remiel and Castiel, you know better. All are welcome here, even if we have human guests so rarely.”

Ms. Richards quirked her head at him. “Rarely and never are not the same word, but I appreciate the hospitality. Who are you?”

Michael strode forward and shook his brother’s hand again. “My errands in the human section went better than I thought. I was surprised to find a friend of Amenadiel’s in the square, and she seemed inclined to join us tonight. Is that quite alright?”

Raphael grinned at both of them although it wasn’t as bright or beaming as his looks reserved just for Michael, himself. His brother might have been kinder on the surface, but it was clear from his posture and from how long Michael had known Raphael and all his tells that his brother was not inclined to deal with humans when he didn’t have to either.

The Silver City was more divided perhaps than Michael had realized, and he wasn’t sure that before his last decade on earth or so that he’d have cared either.

“Fine, but I hope she knows how to use cutlery properly,” Remi said before stomping off. Castiel scurried after her.

Raphael offered them both an apologetic smile. “Ms. Richards, please forgive them. Remiel is rather young, and she can’t always…for the Host, she has much yet to learn.”

Ms. Richards nodded, and her grin softened a bit. “That’s a politic way of calling her a ‘bitch,’ Raphael. I’ll just call her out because takes one to know one.” She winked at him. “But I think I like you. I feel like you remind me of Amenadiel a bit. He has that calming presence. Is it from your Father? From what I’ve heard, it wasn’t from your mom.”

Michael’s mind finally figured out _why_ Ms. Richards seemed familiar, at least some aspect of her aura. She’d been the vessel for the Goddess before Samael had found a way to grant Mother her own universe. The tiniest traces of her essence clung to Ms. Richards, giving Michael a small sense of comfort.

Raphael sighed. “Mother could prove erratic sometimes. Father is more creative. I suppose the sense of peace comes from the serious nature of our own tasks. The First Born and the archangels have much to do to keep tight reins over the Host, but we strive to comfort the younger ones where we can as well. I think that’s what you perceive about me.”

Michael nodded. “Mother was vivacious.” He quirked his head at Ms. Richards. “And sharp-witted. I think I am already starting to see why she would settle for a vessel such as yourself.”

Ms. Richard’s posture stiffened. “Not sure if it was for the best or not. I mean, on one hand, I’d have been damned forever without the weird intervention that happened to my regular life. On the other hand, I still ended up leaving my kids behind and I just…but if the Goddess picked me because of good taste, well, I can’t argue with that.”

“Perfect,” Raphael said. “Then feast we shall! Let’s away, Brother and Ms. Richards, quite a feast has been prepared, complete with the sweetest of ambrosias. It’s not often the Sword of God is home, after all.”

**

He was sitting on the veranda by the main hall. The food had been scrumptious as always and the mead and ambrosia plentiful. He’d been entertained (and from the way Raphael’s eyes had widened over dinner so had the other part of the interregnum present) to watch the verbal tete-a-tete between Ms. Richards and Remiel. The young angel had a sharp tongue and an even more stubborn mind. Perhaps he should speak with her before returning to earth with his miracle research. She was not comporting herself in a manner befitting the Host, at least not the type of Host he and his brothers wanted to shape in the wake of Uriel’s death.

But Ms. Richards was more than a match for Remi’s insults, and truth be told, she had left the young angel in the dust, her tongue truly gifted with delivering insults. It had amused him.

How Sammy collected such fierce and smart women to him, ones he had obviously never been attracted to, Michael wasn’t quite sure. But like the miracle and, he assumed, her mother the detective before her, Trixie was about as loquacious (though oft foolish in her declarations). Charlotte Richards could level cities with her carefully chosen words, and Michael had enjoyed that side of her.

How interesting Samael’s life in Los Angeles must have been before everything collapsed. After all, Dr. Martin was no less intelligent or quick-witted. She and Charlie certainly kept Amenadiel busy.

Michael sighed and looked out at the stars as they peeked out among the wisps of lilac and cerulean clouds, fading with the coming night. He could still remember making them side by side with Samael, drawing forth the raw matter and watching with delight at the whorls of galaxy Sammy dreamed up.

“Until I met your brothers, it never occurred to me that angels could be so sad,” Ms. Richards said, stepping out to the veranda and then sitting down next to him. “You don’t say much, do you?”

“I speak when necessary, Ms. Richards. Besides, I could tell that a woman such as yourself did not need me to defend your honor against Remiel. Her tongue may be sharp, but yours is like a razor blade.”

“I figured a heavenly angel would condemn me for that.”

He smiled at her and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “I’ve spent most of the last twelve years on earth, watching over sisters and brothers and even outcasts stationed there. Perhaps I’m more corrupted than some.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps you may have taught Remiel to hold her tongue. She’ll be chastened for weeks to know a human got the better of her.”

“Amenadiel and Lucifer don’t have that attitude. It was so odd to get used to here in the city.”

“What attitude?” he queried.

“That holier-than-thou. Most of you angels keep to yourselves here, nice enough, I guess, in worship, but mostly we’re not the same. Funny, I thought that wouldn’t be part of Heaven.” She shook her head. “But maybe people---and angels---are alike everywhere.”

“Ms. Richards---”

“‘Charlotte’s’ fine. Your mom spent a bunch of months driving around my body. Your only nephew is named after me. I guess we’re sort of like family if you squint.” She frowned at him, dark eyes studying him with unerring scrutiny. “Does everyone call you ‘Michael?’”

“I don’t have a nickname, except Sa… _Lucifer_ insists on ribbing me with saying ‘Mikey,’ which he knows I hate.”

She leaned closer. “So, Lucifer is one of the angels you visit?”

“He’s the Devil, and he’d be the first to remind you of that,” Michael countered. “He hates being compared to the rest of us.” Though, perhaps of late, Samael would do anything to give up being _only_ the Devil. Michael still wasn’t sure that his twin wanted to be compared to “you lot of feathery bastards” as he’d heard Samael phrase it more than once. “But, yes, recently I started visiting with him. It’s imminently complicated.”

“And angels don’t deal well with that.”

“I wouldn’t say---”

“Oh, I’ve seen you all here enough and watched Amenadiel in glimpses for the better part of a decade figure out fatherhood, at least with the stories he brings me. You’re like children in some ways. How odd.”

He sighed. “The world didn’t used to be complex. Father said, ‘So let it be done,’ and I obeyed. He’s been gone over fifty years---long even for him---and suddenly I have to figure out my own rules. What used to work sometimes…it feels wrong, Charlotte.”

“So, there was a pressing reason for you to be in the human part of heaven, wasn’t there? I figured you inviting me to dinner had more to it than you feeling guilty _just_ because I mistook you for my friend.”

“I…much has changed since your death, Charlotte, and some of it is for the good. Charlie Martin is quite adorable.”

She nodded and beamed at him. “Yeah, Amenadiel brings his cell. I have no idea how it works up here and doesn’t freeze on the way up, but the pics and videos of him and Linda and Charlie are precious.” She shook her head. “I remember when my kids were that young. Maya would be in college by now, almost ready to graduate. I don’t let him tell me about them, but he’s offered. I’m dead, and they’re not, and one day I hope they’ll be here. I can’t pretend I’m mortal even if I have a connection to earth. It’s not good for anyone.”

“Too much regret?”

“Sometimes, even in paradise, I have too many regrets. That’s true.”

“Amenadiel says you saved his life without a thought, jumped between a bullet and the First Born.” Michael ran a hand through his hair, disheveled as it had grown in the breeze. “You may have regrets, but you’ve done something no mortal ever has. You’re impressive, Charlotte.”

“Thank you, but quit blowing smoke, angel. What did you actually need in the human section, and why won’t Amenadiel talk about Lucifer? They clearly had a big falling out, but I don’t think it has anything to do with me and my death. So, what gives?”

Michael turned his gaze from the stars, from Samael’s creations, truly, and focused on the human before him. “Nothing good, although I’m unclear completely about why Lucifer and Amenadiel personally do not speak. Even the good Doctor was quiet about that. I think it had something to do with Charlie, but I can’t quite figure out what. However, you’re not wrong. I…do you know that Chloe Decker and her daughter Trixie Espinoza are miracles?”

“Chloe? I mean, she’s a nice woman, but I don’t understand what you mean about a ‘miracle.’ Wait, can she turn water into wine because if she can, I’m even more mad about that crappy bridal shower!”

“No, she’s not able to perform miracles just _is one_. I…Father created them long ago, one a generation or so, by having me bless humans who could not normally have children of their own. Amenadiel, actually, blessed Penelope Decker as I was indisposed but all other miracles had Father’s blessing carried to them by me. I was visiting some of the former ones in the city…still have more to speak with tomorrow before I return to New Orleans.”

“You know you’re talking to a former prosecutor, right? I’m going to need you to fill in so many more gaps.”

Michael nodded and his wings felt so heavy behind him, and he wasn’t quite sure why. “The miracles do have abilities if they grow into them. I suspect that Detective Decker didn’t because she quit acting so young. Trixie has come of age to develop her own skills and is desperately trying to figure it all out. She’s at college at Tulane.” He frowned, thinking of the shirt her sister had loaned him. “They have a big grey bird mascot.”

“Wrong kind of detail, angel,” Charlotte said.

“Right, well, Lucifer and Mazikeen have a new club there…one they set up in the last decade but new compared to when they were in Los Angeles. I am trying to help the current miracle figure out her latent abilities, and honestly, am trying to help my twin because things have gone very, very wrong.”

“Is he okay? Can you get more than damned?”

Michael sighed. “If you can, perhaps my father’s current wrath against Lucifer is extra damnation. I don’t know. He was furious about what happened to you, Charlotte, and he was even more enraged when Cain tried to murder Detective Decker. He killed the first sinner.”

“But that’s a good thing, right? I mean, Cain was overdue a one-way ticket to Hell. Speaking as a victim, I can’t say I’m sorry about it.” She shook her head and pushed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Honestly, society’s better off without the Sinnerman running his syndicate.”

Michael’s primaries flecked as he thought about Charlotte’s words. “That’s true, but the first law for all angels is that we _never_ kill humans. Lucifer is Fallen but he is… _was_ one of us. It was enough that Father’s curse came hard for him after he slew Cain.”

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, leaning closer.

“I am not completely sure. Trixie thinks there’s still a way to fix it, that maybe it’s something that somehow Lucifer is doing to himself. I think it’s completely Father’s Will, that this punishment would happen to _any_ of us if we killed a human. I honestly don’t know. But it’s not good. Not at all.”

“Specifics. I need the who, what, when, why, and how, Michael.”

He shook his head and chuckled dryly to himself, even if his laugh held no real mirth in it. “You’re incredibly persistent. I can see why Lucifer liked you. I…were you religious before?”

“I was a defense attorney for a decade for the biggest scum in L.A. I wasn’t until I ended up literally in Hell, but I feel like I’m an expert now.”

“Yes, quite the crash course.” He fluttered his wings again and cracked his knuckles before continuing. “You know the lore that humans initially got wrong---red skin, bat wings, claws…that kind of thing, right?”

She leaned back and her eyes widened. “I don’t know what you mean ‘initially?’ I know Lucifer. He’s nothing like that. His wings are just like yours and---”

“Not anymore. Father’s wrath---at least I _think_ it’s Father’s---is so brutal. I…Trixie and I are trying to fix it, and it is perhaps the world’s most impossible feat, but Lucifer certainly cannot pass for human any longer.”

He sighed and his wings sagged heavily behind him. It hurt to think of the ones Samael was saddled with now, how the leathery monstrosities were an utter mockery of any pair of angel wings, let alone the other half of the Demiurge’s, the ones that gleamed with the pure white light of Creation.

Or had.

Charlotte stood and started to pace. “That’s not acceptable. So, you tell me what I need to do. Do we talk to your dad? Do we find him first? Should I scream at Amenadiel till he helps us too? The only reason I’m _not_ in Hell for all eternity is because of Lucifer. I won’t let him rot like this. So, Michael, how do I join the team?”

He blinked up at her. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I’m dead, okay, but I can help you figure this out. I can research the shit out of anything. I won’t leave Lucifer trapped like that. So, if you need help figuring out miracles and how to save him too, then count me in.”

Michael stood and offered Charlotte his hand. “You really are unusual, aren’t you, Ms. Richards?”

She took his hand and shook it firmly, for a human soul. “You have no idea.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Charlotte interrogate the other miracles in Heaven.

**Chapter Ten**

The next morning, Michael met Charlotte out in the main park of the human section of the Silver City. She made him wait an extra twenty minutes, and when she did appear, she was dressed in work out clothing and finishing a lap through the well-trimmed and vibrantly glowing grass of this particular park.

And now be understood why she'd refused the cloud one.

"Charlotte, there's no need to exercise. You know better than I do that human souls don't need to eat, and that whatever you do won't affect your metabolism anyway as, strictly speaking, your souls only feel corporeal."

Charlotte stopped jogging, unzipped her hoodie, and then tied it around her waist. "Never really adjusted to the peaceful transition. It's gorgeous here, but I used to work 16-hour days. I need something to get my blood pumping, uh, metaphorically speaking."

Michael stood and flicked his wings behind him, letting the primaries lay flat. "The first miracle on my docket has taken quite well to the modern side of the city. She's settled up near that high rise, and it won't be as much like a trip down memory lane as the Delphic oracle."

Charlotte gave a low whistle as she fell into step beside him. "I liked Trixie. She gave me decent tips on how to get her father to ask me out. Things like that. I just have a hard time thinking of her as a psychic, even if she’s all grown up now."

Michael shook his head. "She doesn't do anything yet. As far as we know, she isn't clairvoyant and lacks future sight. Lucifer says she's tried hard for that one, but as you humans say, 'no soap.' Besides, this one wasn't psychic so much as a firestarter."

"What?"

Michael nodded to the front door of the complex and opened it wide for Charlotte to pass through. They made short work to the elevator (human souls couldn't fly after all) and took it to the rooftop garden. 

As they rode it up---and how did even heavenly humans stand that monotony---Charlotte stared at him with huge eyes. 

"Rewind, Michael. What do you mean 'fireststarter?'"

"I suppose the technical term is pyrokinetic. This Puritan soul could set fires with her mind. Had you not heard of that?"

Charlotte muttered to herself as the elevator dinged to the top floor. "I have, but you're saying that little Trixie Espinoza can do something like that?"

Michael quirked his head at the former attorney even as they both passed onto the rooftop paradise of tropical flowers, creatively placed waterfalls, and occasional spots of wildlife from parrots to colorful peacocks. The animals were not actual souls but merely illusions for the humans, who came up with endless requests on how to amuse themselves. Animals of all kinds weren’t unusual requests. So was cinema. Michael had Raphael fret to him a few years ago that something called Netflix was rather popular among the humans, but that it might discourage them both from worship and from leaving their homes.

"Not yet, but that's possible, I guess. Although Lucifer tells me a local warlock diagnosed Trixie's gift as Will based and I assumed perhaps projection or maybe even transmogrification."

Charlotte shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Unreal. So then, she could look at me...or well, a living human, say something a poof, I’m a koala bear?"

"Doubtful. It's a rare amount of power for something that specific, but many options are on the table still."

"Damn, and I thought I knew everything that went on between being in both Hell and Heaven."

"Most other angels, save Amenadiel, don't know Father has asked for miracles. It was a special project to help bring Lucifer back to the fold. Even Amenadiel believes only that Chloe Decker is unique among her kind. He'd be wrong," Michael finished as he came to stand in front of the young-looking blonde woman catching sun on another perfect, heavenly day in a bikini.

See...humans and clothing rules. Michael would never understand the codes even for the human souls.

Charlotte stood still beside him, her eyes focused with laser attention on the wan before then.

"Miss Prynne? I'm Michael Demiurgos, the Sword of God, Voice of the Presence, and one-third of the archangels who run the interregnum in the Silver City. May we speak?"

The girl sat up and pulled off her sunglasses. "You're in my rays."

"Forgive me," Michael replied, taking a few steps left and dragging Charlotte with him. "Does this appease?"

The former Puritan nodded. "It'll do, and you can call me Abigail. I know who you are, Michael. You settled me here after I burned alive."

Charlotte eyed him. "Then I guess the formal opening wasn't needed." She focused back on the miracle. "Abigail, alright, can you help Michael with his questions?"

"I don't feel I owe the angel who cursed me anything at all."

Michael felt his eyes blaze. "Now, I'll have you know---"

Charlotte set a hand over his wrist, and he dropped his arm. "I used to do arbitration as a 2L summer gig. I can handle this. Abigail, from what I can understand about God and Michael's miracle factory, you have valid reasons to be upset. I am sure you never asked to be able to set fires on accident."

Tears pooled at the corner of the girl's eyes, and Michael had no idea why he'd said yes to his father about this for so long, why he hadn't understood such flaws in the orders.

"I hurt my little sister and soon after my own father turned me over to the Witchfinder General. I was barely eighteen, and yet I burned alive. On the pyre, I felt I must deserve it, that the Devil had touched me somehow."

Charlotte glared at him yet continued with her questions. "But you know now that you were a miracle, that God and Michael gave you your powers."

Abigail nodded and swiped at her eyes. "You told me yourself, Sword of God. I think you felt guilty as your brought me here, but it's clear you've forgotten. Perhaps because you escorted so many miracles up here after they perished."

Michael swallowed hard and forced himself to face her. He was no coward, and he had much to bear the responsibility for. "I'm sorry."

"Are you? Do you know what it is to burn? To smell your skin cook and watch it fall in chunks from your bones? I doubt that you do."

His wings sagged to the ground and he nodded. "I do not, but I am sorry. I've grown to be a friend of the current miracle, and I understand this more, how unfair it was to each of you as a person and not just as Father's tools."

The girl stood and grabbed her towel and flip-flops. "Well, I'm sorry the sight of me makes you feel guilty. My roasting alive is surely _all about you_."

Charlotte stepped forward and leaned down a little. "Abigail, we're very worried about the new miracle and how to protect her. She was a friend of mine when she was just a kid, and I was alive. If you can tell us anything about how your power started, what set it off, then that could save her life."

The former Puritan retarded only Charlotte. "I'm only taking you because I don't want another miracle to suffer. The Sword of God can go fuck himself."

Unbidden, his primaries turned to blades and didn't grow soft again until Michael took in several deep breaths and willed his ire away. The insolence was not appreciated. Perhaps a divine ego also accompanied a divine spark.

"It's okay to feel that way. I don't think God's fair either, especially to a dear friend of mine," Charlotte replied, setting a hand on the girl's naked shoulder. "Do you know why or how you accidentally burned your sister? We want to avoid our miracle accidentally bringing even more attention to herself."

Abigail glared at him, a rage that would have honestly impressed both Samael and Mazikeen. "I was mad at her, just upset, and the anger boiled over. I didn't mean it, but it was too late for Abernathy. I couldn't stop it once it started. A week later I was dead and here anyway."

Charlotte squeezed the girl's shoulder before dropping her hand away. "Thank you. This means a lot to me." Then, she turned and evaluated him. "Apologize again, Mikey. You hurt her, and she deserves to hear that."

"I apologize, Miss Prynne, if you feel you were cursed but it was a divine blessing and---"

Charlotte tapped her sneaker on the ground. "A real apology. Admit that what your blessing didn't help her at all. It was never for her benefit anyway. It was a burden and a curse. That’s not just how she feels; it's _a fact_."

He pursed his lips and was about to argue with Charlotte when he thought of Trixie on the balcony and their argument, of how she'd cried and admitted just to him how terrified she was of dying. Painful truths she couldn't offer Samael because he was in no state to hear what was quite possible despite the best efforts of both heaven and hell.

The curse he'd helped inflict on so many, albeit not Trixie specifically, because Father asked and he'd never questioned edicts. 

Till now.

Michael bowed low and let his wings fall further to the ground, long primaries gathering dirt. "Abigail, I was wrong. What Father and I did was thoughtless and cruel, and I am truly sorry you suffered."

The girl gaped at him. "I didn't know angels ever apologized."

He nodded and adjusted the glasses on his nose; they always tended to slide off so. "This one does, and I promise you that I will protect the current one with my life and that no more shall ever be made, even once Father returns. You have my most solemn vow."

Charlotte who was too new to the ins and outs of Heaven, even now, smiled at this but didn't seem to understand yet the power in angel's word, especially an _archangel's_.

The girl who had once been raised Puritan, however, did. She bowed her head back. "It will never make us even, Sword of God, but I'm glad one of you can grow at least. And maybe my sister in this curse isn't so lost yet. For her sake. I hope so."

"Me too, Miss Prynne, me too."

**

After they left the high rise, he and Charlotte walked in silence from the heart of the human side of the city out to the piers. Not that boats floated on actual water per se. However, they did bob along on streams made of champagne (that was Samael’s suggestion eons ago, of course) and tended to hold the best views of the sun as it set overhead. By the time they got to the modest houseboat, it was only noon, and the light of the sun was bright as it reflected off the golden-hued water.

Before Michael could knock on the door of the boat, Charlotte seemed to finally figure out what she’d wanted to say---her eyes had been clouded with stormy rage for a while---and she strode out in front of him, blocking his hand from the boat’s front door.

“I’d like to finish this final miracle appointment, please. I promised Trixie that I’d be back to explain my findings, and I already was so tired that I spent the night here when I didn’t intend to.”

“You need to explain more about this miracle stuff because I feel like I was a little ambushed with the girl out of _The Scarlet Letter_.”

“The what?”

“It’s a book, never mind,” she replied. “I mean,” she continued, holding her chin up high. “that I didn’t know being a miracle could actively hurt Trixie. You need to explain every pertinent fact to me. _Now_.”

Michael nodded briskly. “I already mentioned that most miracles develop abilities. Chloe Decker lacks this as she quit her hobby---acting---before she really could come into her powers. The miracles draw their ability from hobbies or things they tended to do for fun in life before. The first I visited yesterday used to scry as a game with her siblings, and she grew to be an oracle. Trixie’s been working through her myriad of hobbies and teenagers these days, I swear. However, she hasn’t found it yet. I…unfortunately Samael is bold but not always bright or careful and some others among the supernatural community know what Trixie is, and miracle blood is very valuable in spells and to slake vampire thirst.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. “Samael? And you’re telling me what exactly? That right now, Trixie Espinoza is a sitting duck for actual, literal vampires? Like ‘I vant to suck your blood’ vampires?”

“Not all sound like they’re from Eastern Europe, to be fair, but that’s a big part of it, yes. Also, ‘Samael’ was Lucifer’s given name. ‘Lucifer’s’ his preferred nickname because he was once ‘The Lightbringer.’ Anyway, the point is that vampires accidentally tasted the miracle and now some would like her for their own. She’s convinced if she can activate her power, she’ll be able to protect herself better. I’m not sure if it’ll be more of an added beacon or not, but I tend to disagree with my twin and feel that _any_ extra skills Trixie can bring to a potential fight would be helpful.”

“And how long do most miracles live? I know Chloe’s still alive; that’s obvious. That woman is too good to end up down below for sure. I mean, she’s hitting fifty by now so that’s a good sign.”

Michael sighed. “She’s harder to find due to her totally passive nature. Trixie has already become a known commodity on the market so to speak. I don’t know how good her odds are.”

“The average age, angel. I have this huge feeling you know exactly the range I’m asking for,” Charlotte said, her eyes practically narrowed to slits as she regarded him.

“Most made it to thirty, few made it after that. Some didn’t hit even twenty but that was earlier on, back when no one lived that long and medicine was unheard of to be fair.”

“And you knew this the whole time?” Charlotte said, throwing her hands up at her sides.

“No, I stopped making any miracles two hundred years ago because I was fighting Fenris. Amenadiel was asked to make Detective Decker specially. Trixie is a bit of a wild card and afterthought, but a miraculous lineage still affects her. I just promised I’d bring her what info I could to help keep her safe, especially for Samael’s sake. He dotes on her so, like she’s his ward or something.”

Charlotte chuckled at that. “I can’t really see it. Lucifer was many things, but not exactly kid-friendly. Although, he seemed to tolerate Trixie well enough when we were all at the precinct together and she’d hug him after school. I think he panicked marginally less with Trixie than when Ella would hug him. But it was close, and both types of hugs came with a lot of flailing.”

“Samael is not fond of certain types of touch, no. I suppose most of us angels don’t understand hugs or physical affection. Not to dig into a sore point, Charlotte, but Mother was actually a being of pure light while in the Silver City, and she _couldn’t_ hug us. Father was too distracted with his creating to do so. We had each other, but eventually our tasks made us too focused to really be a family, even with our siblings. I can understand why hugs stymie Sammy even now.”

Despite everything, Charlotte giggled until she bent over double. “‘Sammy?’ I can’t see Lucifer liking that either.”

“I don’t like ‘Mikey,’ but here we are. Besides, it was what I have always called him, back when we made the stars together.”

Charlotte whistled and her eyes grew wide. “Lucifer and Amenadiel leave a lot out. I didn’t know that about angels. I guess it makes sense.”

“No, not angels, just us, _the Demiurge_. Dad had his plans, Gabriel helped refine and double check them, but Samael and I made them so We were the muscle, so to speak. When he was a true archangel, anything Sam could Will to exist, would exist. There was very little he couldn’t do. Now, of course, he’s hardly divine at all.”

“I…then what do you do?”

“I create the raw material, but I can’t shape it. That’s why it was a two twin job,” Michael said. “I didn’t make Detective Decker or Trixie. I didn’t know that Father was starting this up all over again, but I promised Sam to help him protect his friend both for her sake and for Chloe Decker’s sake.” Michael shook his head. “In his own way, Sam has always been unfailingly loyal and dedicated, and it is probably why exile hurt him so very much.”

Charlotte nodded. “Very true. I just…Trixie’s a good kid. Dan is a good man too, and he put up with so much of my crazy…there was a moment there…I wished well for him, and I still do. I don’t want her to die, and if this goose chase helps, great. I just…why do any of this?”

“To control Samael. Father wanted the best leashes Creation could construct, and I was complicit in that, I admit it. But Amenadiel didn’t even realize what he was doing, like a double blind test. I need to get to the bottom of this, and I need…” he sighed and flared his wings behind his back, until they stretched out to their full span out of frustration. “…I just need to do something that’s _not_ a mistake now. I appreciate how well you were able to work with Miss Prynne. You’ve been helpful already. Please believe me that I wish no ill will toward Trixie or her mother. Exactly the opposite.”

She stepped away from the door, and he drew in his wings. “I believe you. I can’t understand all the bullshit God kept putting people through. I mean, the only reason I’m not in Hell is because the Goddess hijacked by body, but from what Amenadiel said, the Goddess had been sent to Hell for _Lucifer_ to torture for millennia. That’s fucked up.”

“Mother did send floods to eradicate all of humanity. Father had no choice.”

Charlotte shook her head. “There’s always another choice, Michael, and your brother understands that. Maybe one day you will too.”

He didn’t have an answer, as he hadn’t with Trixie back in New Orleans. Humans, at least Lucifer’s, were impudent. Arrogant too. They didn’t know Father as he did. Then again, they both saw the possible flaws in Father’s plans, things that had always passed him by.

Maybe Michael didn’t know as much as he thought he did, at least not anymore.

Reaching out, he rapped quickly on the door. It took a few minutes, but a slight young man with brown eyes and a complexion not unlike Trixie’s opened the door. He regarded them both with a wary gaze. “So, it’s true. I’d heard an angel was going around talking to those of us who had been blessed in life, but I didn’t think I’d be talked to. No one has paid any attention to me in the almost three hundred years since I got here. Way back then, it was that weird girl with the fish clasp robe dropped me off.”

Michael nodded. “You were one I couldn’t hand lead to heaven at the time. I was dealing with an uprising amongst Japanese deities. I apologize. I hope the Angel of Death made you comfortable.”

The young man nodded. “I like it here. It’s not the bayou, but it’s quiet. I never had much quiet in the decades back home in the Quarter. I’m Raul, and I don’t mean to be that rude, but I don’t have a lot of need for angels, even an archangel. Maybe _especially_ an archangel, so say what you want and then let me be.”

Charlotte chuckled beside him. “I wonder if it ever occurs to you guys that the humans don’t really like you. I guess that happens when you treat us more like pets, or what was that delightful thing Remiel said? Oh, right _like monkeys_. God forbid you treat humans like younger siblings or just plain equals.”

Michael’s wings flared behind him. “Humans are _not_ our equals.”

“Then,” Charlotte said. “You can expect the same warm reception wherever you go then.”

Michael sighed. Perhaps the sharp-tongued lawyer was a bit more than he could handle currently, not that he’d let her know that. “Anyway, Raul, we’re here to speak to you about your life and your abilities. You’re from New Orleans, and that interested me. I…the current Blessed lives there for now. She hasn’t come into her powers yet, but she’s trying to figure them out.”

“That doesn’t concern me. I don’t like to dwell on my mortal life. It was wasted at the hands of a vampire who kept me chained up from my twenty-first birthday till she got sloppy.”

Charlotte quirked her head at Raul and studied him more closely. “What does that mean?”

“I prefer to appear _young_ here, but I didn’t die till I was in my forties. The vampire, Esmée Devereaux, was exacting in keeping me alive. But eventually she grew careless and left a water glass in my cell. I used it to slit my wrists, to end my drain my cursed blood from me, after she’d drunk it from me for years.”

“I’m so sorry that happened,” Charlotte said. “What were you able to do?”

“Dreams. It was probably the only way I could stay sane. As a kid, I could see what my sisters dreamed. It was like a game between us: they’d have me guess what they were dreaming of the night before, and I always _knew_. Eventually I could control mine and others. It was probably the only way I kept myself from going crazy for two decades trussed up like a cow at pasture. At night, I wasn’t trapped.” He held up both arms that were unblemished now, but Michael could envision the gashes that had once been there on Raul’s human flesh and goosebumps erupted across his shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, if it was God’s will to bless or curse me---whatever it is---as he did St. Francis or Joan of Arc, then who am I to question it? It was brutal, but it was as it was. However, if you have questions about me or what I felt about being Blessed, then it was a terrible ordeal. I would have given anything to be normal as my siblings were. But I wasn’t.”

Charlotte didn’t comfort him physically this time, didn’t reach out to offer anything, but the expression on her face was concerned and calm. “I’m sorry too. I have to ask one thing though. Once the vampire had you, how long did it take for the rest of New Orleans to know?”

He blinked as if the question were so very obvious to him. “Madame, they _all knew_ from Papa Midnite to the witches to so many others. Esmée couldn’t keep her mouth shut once she had me, and as I understand it from the mansion I was moved into eventually, selling my blood by the ounce made her fabulously wealthy.” Raul laughed and it was a shrill, bitter sound that made Michael’s blood run cold. “ _Nothing_ stays secret in the Quarter for long. Nothing.”

**

They were back at the cloud saturated park where they’d first met. He usually found comfort in the swirls of nimbus clouds with their highlights of peach, turquoise, and coral. The Host had never been children. Charlie was the first even _part_ angel to have ever been a child. However, even The Sword of God had been newly created and young once. Naïve then and yet maybe he still was. Michael wasn’t sure on that score. However, he’d loved playing chase among the clouds, racing his twin, but also spending hours trying to hide and outmaneuver Gabriel and Raphael too.

But he found no comfort in the clouds tonight.

Beside him in the park, Charlotte continued to pace, like a woman on a mission. “Okay, so from today we know that extreme emotion brings out abilities and that New Orleans is a terrible place for Trixie since it already knows all about her.”

“Not new about the French Quarter. I’ve heard that Samael has debated sending Trixie away for a while. However, I think that the earlier information may be as useless. I don’t know if she was as intense and quick to anger as a small child, but Trixie has a temper on her now.”

Charlotte chuckled. “I knew bother her parents, especially Dan. I’m not surprised.”

“Yes, well, we add that into what the oracle told me about her powers coming from a hobby---scrying---she turned to for comfort, and I have small pieces to bring to the miracle. I don’t know if it will help her. For all I know, down on earth, she’s already figured out what she does. The time passing between planes is hardly an exact science though I try to keep my mind clear for her or for Samael’s prayers.”

“Interesting,” she said, but then pressed another point. “How are you doing, angel?”

“Fine, lawyer,” he said, adjusting the glasses on his nose. They were so often askew, but he didn’t have time to see his doctor currently. He barely had time to breathe. “What I feel doesn’t matter, does it? I hurt so many humans without realizing it, without seeing them as human.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. I kept helping my clients when I was a defender for the evil, rich, and guilty but didn’t think of the people they’d hurt. I just didn’t care as long as the money kept rolling in. When you realize there are faces behind the stories and the pain… _now_ when it’s someone you care about, it is so much more excruciating.” She surprised Michael by sitting down next to him. “You were told what to think your whole life by God. I’m not saying it’s an excuse or that some of the things your father wanted weren’t good, at least once a long time ago. I’m just saying it’s hard to stand on your own too, Michael. For what it’s worth from a fellow person on a road to redemption---”

“I didn’t say I was.”

“Aren’t you though? Helping Lucifer to get better, if he can. Trying to save Trixie’s life…aren’t these things you’re doing to clear your Karmic debt? It sure sounds like it to me.”

Michael sighed, and for a second time that day, his wings felt impossibly heavy. “I don’t even know any longer. I merely wish to keep the current miracles alive, and Trixie is the most vulnerable of the two.” Also the most annoying but that was neither here nor there. Though that miracle had quite a talent for working her way under his skin and ruffling _all_ of his feathers. “And I have missed my twin low these eons. That’s true. I…I worry for him.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not good, Ms. Richards. And I know that the miracle is hoping for a loophole, but I know Father, and I’m less hopeful.I feel like I have so many things to try and keep going---my job with the interregnum and so many of the Host to watch, protecting Charlie and hiding his existence as Nephilim aren’t strictly forbidden but they aren’t technically allowed either, and now this mess in New Orleans. “Truth be told, my twin and Trixie Espinoza could keep me busy for the next century all on their own.”

Charlotte straightened his glasses again which, of course, had slipped their confines. “Then, you should be glad you have one of California’s top lawyers to help you out. What else do I need to do?”

For the first time since his argument with Trixie on the balcony, Michael felt better, as if he were still drowning in responsibilities but that he, at least, was near a life preserver of a sort. He offered Charlotte a kind smile.

“Ms. Richards…Charlotte, I have an idea. It’s only temporary, but I really could use any help I can get, and you know Samael and Trixie both better than I do. At least, you know them better in certain contexts for Sammy. Would you be willing to do more than just question the miracles for me?”

“Michael, I meant what I said. I loved Dan, I did. If I can help keep Trixie safe, count me in. And I’d still be damned and stuck in the ultimate nightmare without Lucifer. So, if you have a crazy plan to save them both, then all you have to do is ask. I’m gonna be there.”

Michael nodded and stood up, spreading his wings wide. “Wonderful. Now you have a deal.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Maze take Trixie to an abandoned theater to give her sparring lessons.

**Chapter Eleven**

He lay with his head pillowed in her lap. Chloe’s fingers tickled easily through his hair and then found their way to his feathered wings. She carded her fingers expertly through the primaries, as if she’d done this a thousand times, and maybe she had. Lucifer yawned a little and, perhaps, made a sound that was certainly _not_ a purr no matter how much the Detective teased him. This was the life really.

Bonus for having the sound of the roaring ocean on the beach--- _their_ beach---echoing in the background.

Lucifer turned just a bit, but kept his right wing angled so that the Detective could continue her ministrations. He’d forgotten how relaxing preening could be, even if she was still a novice at it. How much trust it built up. Angling his head toward her, he smiled.

“You’re quite talented with that. I bet, eventually, there are other things you could do with those digits of yours.”

She slapped his shoulder but returned to stroking his wing anyway. “Only you can make something that’s technically heavenly a way to make double entendre.”

“It’s what I do.” He flicked his feathers idly. “If I’m stuck with these feathery burdens, then I should get some fringe benefits from having them back again. I’d say you helping to keep them straight is almost good enough. Almost.”

She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “What? So using them to save my life in the loft and protecting me against Pierce wasn’t the biggest bonus?”

Lucifer shook his head and cursed for a while, thoughts of that man ham did that to him. When he calmed a little, he offered her a sly smile. “That, of course, goes without saying is the best thing I can do with these ruddy things. I do admit that a nice grooming is a close second, however.”

“All benefits for you,” The Detective replied, sticking her lower lip out in the most delectable pout.

Lucifer smirked and kissed her again, letting his tongue plumb the depths of her mouth, promising her everything she could hope for and more. “Oh, I’ve ways to make it up to you.”

He expected her to grin back at him, like the minx she was deep down. But instead, she screamed. Lucifer bolted up like a shot, and his eyes widened at the sight of massive amounts of his feathers, gone grey and faded and fallen out at the root on her lap. His back started to burn and he twisted in on himself, going to the fetal position against the pain. When he was able to blink up again, Chloe was staring down at him with eyes rounded in utter horror.

“Oh my God.”

“Now, I know it’s mostly an unspoken rule between us, but can we _not_ mention Dad?” Lucifer grumbled to himself, but he stilled when his attempt at humor did nothing to assuage Chloe’s discomfort. “Detective, really, are you quite alright?”

She shook her head and pointed to his wings, which, granted, were apparently molting in a fast and furious way, but the act itself wasn’t completely abnormal. Still, Lucifer followed her gesture and shuddered at what he could see over his right shoulder---the stretch of red, leathery skin, the arch of a bat like wing, just the hint of giant claws out of his peripheral vision.

“I…that’s impossible. My wings don’t work like that,” he said, although it was no more than a weak whimper because it was happening and, after all, until Amenadiel’s had rotted off, no one had known _that_ could happen either.

Chloe reached into the picnic basket they’d brought and yanked out one of Maze’s blades, and when she’d pilfered anything from Mazikeen, Lucifer didn’t know. It was all rather fuzzy to him actually, come to think of it. Instead, the Detective held the knife up defensively before her. Lucifer stretched out and stood still, keeping the hideous monstrosities where his true wings had been pressed tightly to his back.

“Detective…Chloe, you have to know I’d never hurt you. I’ve no idea what’s going on currently, but you’re safe with me, always will be.”

Her expression darkened and her smile had gone, instead her lips were set in a firm, grim line. “You say that now, but will you hurt her? Will you get her killed?”

Before Lucifer could ask the Detective anything else, she lunged forward. And plunged the dagger into his chest.

**

He awoke with a start and noticed three things. First, he really needed to replace his headboard again because startled Devil and the cherry wood did _not_ go well together. Second, in his haste, he felt something fall from his head, over his eyes, and end up on the mattress before him. Frowning, Lucifer picked up the piece of cloth and chuffed to himself when he realized it was a literal night cap. The urchin was developing an annoying sense of humor, it seemed, and also was showing less deference to the infernal than usual. However, the final thing he noticed as he rubbed his fingers delicately over his face and tried to take steadying breaths, were the beady little eyes of a certain flying rodent glaring at him from the foot of his bed.

There was a chittering, so like the hiss of cicadas all over again, and Lucifer glared at Beelzebub, who had decided to harass him yet again.

“You know, rat, you’re a guest in _my_ home.”

The little miscreant stood up on its hind legs and barked at him. It would have been more effective if the animal didn’t sound like a squeaky toy.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I don’t speak _everything_ , but I can tell you feel about me the way I feel about you. Perfect, however, the spawn is rather attached to you, and I can’t have you sent back to the pet shop. Perhaps we need to make a truce?”

The sugar glider offered another set of barks before hopping off the bed, spreading its sides wide, and scurrying somewhere away in the expanse of Lucifer’s room.

Bloody perfect.

Well, he’d go downstairs and explain quite pointedly to his charge that he neither wanted pranks on him as he slept, and that there had to be some bloody point to Beelzebub living in a cage. If Beatrice was a bit too thick to lock it properly, then he’d have Taka and Mazikeen figure it out, maybe get extra locks to keep the rodent in an Alcatraz of his own. It was readily deserved.

Sighing, Lucifer stood up and swept the last vestiges of the nightmare from his mind. While his dreams were more vivid than usual of late, they ran a gamut. Sometimes, they were no worse than memories. Sometimes, and now more often, especially since he’d heard Chloe’s voice over the phone, he dreamt of _her_ , and those always spiraled into night terrors. Ones that, as a bonus, ended in his death or something equally disturbing.

Well, he didn’t need either Freud (oh the peccadillos that one had favored) or Dr. Linda to know that he was projecting or whatever other rot applied.

It was unlikely the Detective would kill him, mostly because the last time, she’d just fled half a country over from him. Also, he sincerely planned to ensure that the Detective and Daniel _never_ heard about him and Mazikeen interacting with the offspring ever. Then, there were even odds that Chloe might at least be tempted to shoot him; she knew it worked on him after all.

Plus, their last parlay had gone spectacularly pear-shaped.

Lucifer dressed quickly as he always did and hurried down the steps to the main room of his flat and now Beatrice’s territory. The child had exploded out from her alcove with clothes still strewn everywhere, some of the rat’s toys and treat bags spread all the way to his coffee table, and she was currently surrounded by her colored pencils and sheafs of paper all over his sofa.

Ah right, and now he remembered yet another reason he’d never wanted to deal with children, even teenage ones.

“You’re picking this mess back up, I’ll have you know. For obvious reasons, I haven’t a daily.”

Beatrice frowned up at him but continued with her work. “Um, a daily what?”

“Maid, that’s what that means, urchin. I swear Americans never really learned English.”

“You’re only _faux_ British. Pip pip cheerio,” she said, and truly, her attempt at a British accent was no less appalling than her mother’s.

He shook his head and sidled up next to her, sliding onto the one spot on the sofa that wasn’t covered in drawings, pencils, _pencil shavings_ , and miniature sharpeners. Seriously, Beatrice was quite the mess. “I’ve had the accent for the better part of two centuries, longer than you’ll ever live. It’s mine now. At any rate, we need to discuss your pet monster.”

“Beelz was feeling pent up today. I told him to stay on this floor!”

“Yes, that worked smashingly. It keeps waking me up!”

“First, Beelz’s is a _he_ , and second, he’s quite cuddly. Ooh, also you’re not bleeding so I think you’re getting along better.”

“Yes, truly the sign of simpatico, no bloodshed.” He frowned down at her collection of drawings. “Well, aren’t these fun.”

“I doodle when I’m feeling…I dunno…stressed out,” Beatrice confessed.

Lucifer gathered the one nearest him, going slowly to avoid accidentally piercing it with his claws. That one was a simple grey sketch with a regular pencil that was of him, complete to him sleeping in his bed with the comical and incredibly stupid conical night cap---little fuzzy pom pom on it included.

“Did you put that idiotic hat on my head?”

She scrunched her brows up at him. “Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been down here sketching for about three hours since some Devils love to sleep in. And a hat? What even?”

“I have that cap on my mattress now. Don’t deny it, urchin. You were staging stuff for true to life.” He shook his head and chuckled a little despite himself at her signature on the bottom of the page. “Not exactly a bit of Picasso, but it’s not a bad likeness. Just don’t sneak props on my head next time. I refuse to have cartoon horns stuck there, and the Lilim would never let me hear the end of it afterwards. Seriously, perish the thought.”

“I didn’t get you a hat? I was hanging with Ted, Lettie, and Annie till two. I mean, okay, Lettie left way earlier than I thought she would. But where would I have gotten an old timey, Rip Van Winkle cap?”

He held the paper out to her. “That’s what I wanted to know! I don’t mind, much, but there won’t be a pattern of this, child. Also, don’t lie to the Devil. It’s in poor taste, and I can always tell the difference.”

“Not lying, Old Scratch. You’re clearly getting addled in your old age.”

He brought his claws to his chest and shook his head. “How dare you! I’m a sprightly 13 billion. However, I’ll let your insolence pass for now, offspring. Do bear in mind lesser things would have gotten a Lilim years ago flayed.”

“Well, I’m _not_ Lilim.” She frowned and grabbed a jet black pencil from her collection to add color to her latest drawing. “It’d be cool if I were though!”

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Yet another reason why he had never wanted children either. They clearly had no idea when to let things drop. Usually a tough-headed determination he’d find admirable. However, when it was Beatrice insisting she actually wanted to spend eternity in Hell, he found her stubbornness infuriating. _That_ was torment for him, home for Maze, Taka, and the rest, and nowhere _any miracle_ should ever tread.

But try telling her that.

“Yes, well, let’s table our first argument of the day till after I’m nicely toasted. The only advantage of having you crash with me whilst you hunt for other accommodations post your sorority woes.”

“You cannot use me as a proxy excuse to get drunk,” she huffed, switching out her black pencil for a bit of scarlet.

“If I have to deal with a rat, weird college pranks, and all of your accoutrements in my space. The best thing about you is that you can make me tipsy due to the vulnerability clause. I think a Bloody Mary will do wonders for my mood today,” he said, standing and stretching out his wings. Blasted, leathery things really were so very heavy. “Ooh, that’s quite the comic strip looking one, isn’t it?”

“Manga actually. I’m doing a manga graphic novel thing of Maze the Vampire Slayer. I have had a bit of writers’ block on it, but I got inspired again after I heard about your nest clean out.” Beatrice emphasized her point by holding up her drawing for him to appraise.

He regarded the fairly accurate picture of Mazikeen---even if her eyes were too large for her face by a bit---and the tight leather outfit she’d been decked out in. He whistled appreciatively at her demon dagger slicing through the neck of a leech, leaving it decapitated and its head falling to the ground, mid-way to the concrete of the crypt below in the image.

“Lovely. You’re talented, child. Definitely have seen lesser talent in more famous artists.”

“Thanks, Satan, but not looking for a deal there either.”

“If you’d take more deals, Beatrice---”

“Nah,” she said continuing her shading even as he walked to his bar and fixed himself a Bloody Mary.

Lucifer grumbled as the Worcester sauce bottle slipped in his claws and almost fell to the floor. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated harder and took great pains to focus only on creating his drink until he was done. Perhaps one day he could multitask while doing manual tasks, as it was, even after a decade, the blasted claws threw him.

However, once he was done, he leaned against his bar and regarded the urchin. “You’ve been up a while then, if you’ve been drawing for three hours.”

“Some people do get up before one, Luci.”

“I was hardly a morning angel even back long ago when I wasn’t in exile. I’ve found the best things happen after two a.m., child.”

“Not that you’d let me do those things with Ted.”

“You and Theodore seemed to have a delightful start. I approve, and he was so earnest about his crush on you. How utterly sweet.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and Lucifer got flashes to his nightmare this morning and dream!Chloe’s determined stab at him with her dagger. Right. Best not to piss miracles off unnecessarily in the dream world or whilst awake. “Don’t ‘desire’ my friends and…well… _Ted_ next time. That’s out of bounds.”

“I had to make sure he had the best of intentions for you, offspring.”

“No, that’s worse than every time Dad says he’ll sit down and like talk to my dates but then talks about all his arrest records and not so subtle hints about shootouts he’s been in too. No mind whammies on boyfriends!”

Lucifer’s wings perked up behind him and he felt his eyes blaze. “Ooh, I _knew_ it. I saw you two snogging. I called it long ago that you had a romantic interest in young Theodore. I’m quite the matchmaker you know.”

She chuckled and continued drawing. “Sure---Devil, muse, and cupid all in one. It’s good. _He’s_ good, and we’re gonna hang next Wednesday, do a movie at The Varsity downtown. It was great.”

“Yet,” he said, drinking his morning libations and loving the feel of the Vodka actually able to burn down his throat. “you clearly felt pent up energy as you needed to draw and quite a bit, child.”

“Lettie left early. I don’t know if she liked _Tenebrae_ much, that’s all.”

Thinking of the last friend of hers who had gone squirrelly, Lucifer spread his wings wide and suppressed a growl. “Is this something akin to Cheryl’s freakout?”

Beatrice looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “Stand down, Luci. I think…her family has witches in it, so, yeah, she knows that it’s not just a play or a show for bilking tourists. We’re gonna talk more.”

He brought his wings close to his back and sighed. “Do you feel you might lose your sisterly bond because you’re also friends with Satan incarnate?”

“Honestly, no. Lettie’s pretty awesome, but it’s just a lot of explaining. I…I don’t ever really know how to explain you and Maze. You just are, you know? I’ve known you both as a kid, and it’s not weird to me at all that you’re my friends---like family really. I guess even for other, uh, supernatural people, you all can be a lot.”

He considered her and sipped his ersatz breakfast, even though his stomach was curdling a bit. “Urchin, I think I’ve learned a bit how to navigate things better with your sorority sisters. That traitor, Cheryl, was already those leeches’ familiar. She’d have been resistant to me and Mazikeen no matter what. However, I promise that if I were to meet Lettie more formally, I’d be more than happy to let you both steer the conversation.”

Beatrice set her coloring down and arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so you learned that bragging about your literary exploits doesn’t actually put humans at ease, didn’t you?”

“I thought that Cheryl might relax as I regaled her about Edgar Allan Poe. I had no idea about that.”

“Lucifer, you almost get to exact position!”

“I do not. And as someone who quite literally inspired the Kama Sutra, I can say that I could. But, perhaps you’re somewhat right. I may need a bit of a minder---”

“I’ll say.”

He rolled his eyes. “The cheek of you, child. It’s just if you want Maze and I to speak with Lettie, we can. I’ll let you handle it. I do suppose my ego got in the way. I didn’t want to come off as a cuddly Care Bear, as someone so tame. Mazikeen and I do have reputations to uphold.”

The urchin stood and approached the bar. She reached up as high as she could and placed a hand on his shoulder or as much of it as she could reach. “Not to put a fine point on it, Luci, but you’re not going to get confused for some cuddly puppy any time soon. I think that Lettie is just worried about me and, um, you know my soul? I have to explain that it’s just a _rumor_ , you know?”

“Oh, believe you me, I have explained that I don’t control souls so very many times.” He sighed. “I just don’t want you to lose all your sisters because of me or your friends. My secrets and burdens should not be yours.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to ask Maze to flash her the ‘face’ any time soon. You are as you are, and Lettie knows that it’s not a trick or make-up because she can _see_ the difference. That said, I think I can handle it. She wanted to have lunch on campus before the damn sorority board hearing on Saturday, and I can do that. I’d love to really. I just…I think you carry more cache than I thought!”

Lucifer tried to ignore the way his ward’s woes struck his heart, like fresh barbs every time. Beatrice had so much on her already she had never asked for but his Father had seen fit to saddle her with----miracle abilities (eventually) and the bulk of New Orleans’s supernatural community probably aware of her, some even now most likely desperate for her incredibly rare blood. She didn’t deserve to scare off even her friends tangentially connected to the rest of the paranormal world here because he was the actual Devil. It was of course the ultimate paranormal pay grade, but it didn’t apparently ease young Lettie’s worries.

“I told you that I’m rather impressive. Who isn’t in some form of awe over Mephistopheles after all?”

Beatrice eased behind his bar and helped herself to the makings of a Shirley Temple. Some things never did change. “Anyway, she may just be mad still not for my soul but because she thinks you and Michael have weird sights set on me. I mean, as if. First, you’re like way more strict than Dad…probably, and second, Michael’s like a robot. No, _worse_ , considering he has that holier-than-thou stick up his ass.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her and chewed back any nausea that flared up with such misconceptions. “I’d…just what?”

“It comes when idiot angels burst into the main bathroom at Omega Chi at four a.m. I’m pretty sure Lettie thinks Michael’s a perv.”

Lucifer relaxed then, finally understanding the nature of his friend’s problems. “Oh! Well, then I feel better about this. If Lettie worries that _Mikey_ , of all angels, the Sword of God, ever feels anything but the urge to kiss Father’s arse, then she’s quite mistaken. Besides, urchin, just explain to her how hell actually works. Your soul would _never_ be in trouble from me. Honestly, Father has superseded me on that and, for once, it’s one of the few things we agree on.”

“About that---”

He let his eyes flare brightly but the offspring barely noticed. Damn, and of course in the cosmic scheme of things he’d be forced to ride herd over a teenager who didn’t respect him. Some days, he almost bought his twin’s theory-slash-joke that trying to take care of Beatrice was his Dad’s ultimate form of revenge.

Send the rebel a bigger rebel, after all.

“Nope. Get dressed, something easy to exercise in, urchin. I promised Maze to meet us at 3 at Jazz Land for the practice sessions. You’ve been after me for ages to aid with your training. Having had my wing clipped by you.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Well, I’d like to see how well you’re coming along. Besides, perhaps I’d like to see how you do with someone who has a different style than Mazikeen’s.”

Her eyes lit up like she was opening presents on Christmas morning. “You! I get to fight you?”

“Do have a sense of self preservation, Beatrice. We have thoroughly established that former archangels and well the Devil versus a human is a _curb stomp_. It will be slow and instructional only. But Mazikeen is direct, quick fury with her blades. I used to be more light on my feet. I can at least show you that now. I…” he sighed and felt his wings droop behind him even as he drained his Bloody Mary. “…now I feel my actual style shall have to evolve. I’ve avoided testing the limits of this form in so many ways. It didn’t matter whilst I was alone or even if it affected my ability to play piano.”

“You’re doing really well!”

He sighed and tried to stay pleasant with her. Beatrice attempted to make him feel better so often, but he wondered if she understood that sometimes the condescension—though genuine concern---of a child who was merely a blink in the age of the know universe was just more salt in the myriad of open wounds Father had left for him. He’d been a headliner once, a pianist so gifted that he’d _taught_ Beethoven a few tricks back long ago. To be able to barely stumble through the Beatles or some Elton John was a demotion in so many ways.

But she wanted to help him, and she was trying so hard.

He just hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed when his case proved futile. Dear, naïve child that she was.

“Yes, well, I need to know how to fight best like this. So, get readied and _find_ that rat of yours. He will not be leaving pellets and so-called gifts around my room.”

“Beelzebub is getting better at potty training, promise.”

“Don’t lie to the Devil, urchin. I always know, like that damn night cap of yours.”

“You are getting delusional, Satan. Besides, I have been training him all week. I…maybe I should go get Beelz anyway, you know? Ooh, also, can I set the place. Ted had the best area based on his Youtube vids. I mean, the Six Flags is great too, but I figured we could try more locations?”

His wings fluttered despite him, and Lucifer set his hand, mindful of his claws, on her shoulder. “All part of your design to socialize Satan, is it?”

“No, seriously, you’re gonna love the Municipal Auditorium or, well, what’s left of it. It’ll be a total _Thunderdome_ vibe.”

With that, Beatrice hurried up the stairs, and he very much hoped to the task of collecting her sugar glider before they left. Lucifer shook his head and poured himself one more drink. He could indulge after all. He wondered if the urchin had always been so bent, or if it was mostly his influence and Mazikeen’s when she was small. Hell, sometimes, he wondered if she was ever so cracked because of her miraculous nature.

No, her mother certainly wouldn’t have wanted to stage Mad Max.

It was probably just a her thing.

And it could be, he had called it long ago, very taxing.

**

He landed in the middle of what could kindly be described as an art deco auditorium, or what had once been one before the great flood. Its ceiling arched high above them with molded panels falling even now from its rafters, a yellowing balustrade with ivy carvings circling the upper layer of seats, and blue Tiffany-glass style chandeliers that had once been gorgeous, fading into obscurity glittering in the remains of the fading winter sunlight.

The rest of the surroundings were as glamorous as anywhere he found himself these days---rows of rusted out and molded red and cobalt theater styles seats, a middle floor for the stage that was coated in dust and droppings he’d rather not dwell on, and the remains of tons of plastic water bottles scattered at the corners of the platform he’d landed on. As Lucifer set the urchin down, he huffed a little.

“You do suggest the most fetching places to rendezvous, child.”

Mazikeen stepped out from the folding chairs and hopped onto the stage along with them. It was more than ample for the three, more than enough to use for training Beatrice. His right hand demon (yes even now that she technically didn’t work for him) slung a large duffle bag from her shoulder. Unzipping it, she pulled out a few options for the urchin: her silver dragon blade, a few practice blades shaped more like Maze’s own and curved, and even a long bo-staff.

“Trix, you want to try with the dragon blade on Lucifer? Should be entertaining?”

He flared his wings at that. Lucifer was surrounded by nothing but insolence. Of course, he’d picked that too. “Perhaps it’s best with practice blades, the ones made of foam.”

“Why?” Maze asked, bouncing on her heels as she stood and took started through her own defensive stances with her prized scimitars she’d won in Chinatown. He appreciated that she’d left the hell-forged blades at home. Those were a bitch.

“Because miracle means I can be pierced and since this is merely training, I’d prefer not to be bloodied after all.”

The urchin had the gall to pick up the dragon blade and spin it in her hands, its ruby eyes mocking him back. “I dunno. You’re the one who claims never to back down from any possible challenge, isn’t that true, Luci? You go on about it _all the time_. Half of the Demiurge this, the biggest Big Bad in New Orleans, yadda yadda. You don’t think a _human_ who hasn’t been training consistently until January is going to touch you, do you?”

“You’re still mad that I remind you that you’re not demonic, aren’t you?”

Beatrice shrugged and spun her blade again in a move he recognized as pure Maze. “No, but I’m _not_ just some regular human, and you can’t possibly be scared of little old me.”

“I’m not; I simply have no urge to be stitched up by you like some erstwhile vet visit. However, if you think you can really touch me, spawn, then please, have at it. The King of Hell fears _no one_.”

That wasn’t strictly speaking true. Lucifer feared exactly three things: his father and his endless wrath, anything out there in the city that might be interested in _eating_ his ward, and Chloe Decker. He was mostly terrified of the Detective and hated to think of what ire would rain down on the Big Easy if she ever found out whom Beatrice was spending her time with.

However, as far as this little kitten to his lion? Yes, let her try and graze him.

“Mazikeen, can you get to the edge and watch us a bit. I need an outside eye to help me evaluate where you are with the urchin.”

“You doubt my ability to train warriors now, _oh king_ ,” Maze said, winking at Beatrice. “That’s not what you thought for eons when I trained the Lilim.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I know she’s young and impulsive and you must have a million pointers as shall I.”

“Hey! I’m right here and I handled blades for two years as a kid and I’ve been practicing hard since I met you guys again. I’m not a newbie!” She said, although her point wasn’t help much by her accidentally dropping her blade in her frustration. “Um, ignore that part.”

Maze chuckled but stood off to the side of the stage, arms crossed over her chest, and ready to watch the sparring session. “It would be good to get a more distant look at her form. Come on, Trix, don’t let me down! Make Satan bleed!”

“Thank you for your faith in _my abilities_ , Mazikeen,” Lucifer huffed, drawing to the center of the stage and bowing low for Beatrice.

She mimicked his gesture and then brought the dagger up high to make her move. Lucifer waited. He always had waited in the past. It was something he’d learned long ago working his way up in skirmishes against the bigger, badder demons of Hell, back when he’d been newly Fallen and hopeless at fighting dirty. The honorable training of the Host did little in a true fight, and he wondered if, even now, his siblings understood that. However, the best skill he’d found was to let his opponents tire themselves out, to lull them into making the first long move.

Beatrice stood before him and narrowed her eyes. His refusal to move was throwing her off equilibrium as he suspected. Mazikeen always worked fast, wanted to draw first blood. His charge wasn’t used to a fight with a being who could wait, one who was powerful enough _to wait_.

She eyed Maze as she steadied her grip on her blade, but the demon shook her head. “Trix, don’t look to me. If this is ever real, I won’t be there. Lucifer might not either. You have to do what you did with Esmée. What was that?”

“Take my first opportunity.”

Lucifer flapped his wings a bit, blowing up a breeze and Father knew what into the air around them. Then, he stretched his arms out wide. “Well, child, have at it. First try is free.”

Beatrice didn’t have to be told twice and rushed at him. He expected her to do something showy and try and aim for his arm or his shoulder even, but she gave him a moderate surprise by sliding at the last minute and aiming her blade low to slash at his Achilles heel. It might have worked if his perception weren’t faster than hers, and he was able to twist last minute as she swiped at nothing. Lucifer turned and backed up a few steps, his wings pulled close to his back, as he waited for her to try again.

“Urchin, don’t get tired now.”

She groaned and hopped back to her feet and rushed for him again. He dodged easily to the right as she aimed an upper cut with her blade for his jaw. She thrust again soon after, fast for a human, and Maze must have been working her hard, before the spawn actually did shock him by managing to twist to the left and slice at his wing.

Blasted thing was a relatively thin webbing of skin and veins anyway and tore easily, now a six inch gash in his right wing, and a stab of pain across the flesh that left him roaring. The chandeliers overhead shook with his fury and a tile landed near Maze’s head.

She shook her head. “Hey, watch it! Also, Trix, good job!”

Beatrice let the advice and blood lust go to her head too fast and tried the same maneuver too soon toward his left wing. Lucifer was anticipating that and instead flapped them as hard as he could, blowing the urchin off her feet and onto her back. Racing with all his speed to her blade. He snatched it from the floor where she’d dropped it and brought the tip within a few inches of her throat.

Lucifer glared down at her, eyes blazing in his own excitement. “Yield, Miracle.”

“Ugh, wings are cheating!”

He held the blade steady where it was. “Rules are rules, child. Do you yield?”

“Yes, okay, I yield. Yeesh, help me up!”

Lucifer flicked the dagger to Mazikeen who plucked it from the air with deft precision. Then he reached one large hand to his protégé. “Fair enough, offspring. Let us help you up then.”

She offered him a death stare and hopped up to her feet on her own, wiping the dust and other detritus from her yoga pants. “Seriously? Wings are _cheating!_ I don’t have wings!”

Maze shrugged and polished off the dragon dagger. “Well, you don’t have preternatural strength or fangs either. What’s your point? Kid, you’re good for a novice, but you have to remember that it’s literally mortal combat out there.”

“I remember Esmée trying to eat me. I get it!” Beatrice huffed.

Lucifer pulled his wings to his back and hissed a little at the pain in his right one. As soon as he was out of range from the child it would heal up well enough, and she had class on Fridays anyway. It would work out, but it didn’t make the slice pleasant. How ruthless of her; he was proud of that.

“Yes, Mazikeen isn’t wrong. They’ll use every trick they have, every part of their anatomy they have that you don’t from claws to talons to wings. If you don’t anticipate that too, you’ll be a sitting duck.”

Beatrice sighed theatrically. “I still did draw first blood. That was pretty badass right?”

Maze shrugged. “The battle isn’t about who draws first blood. The point is who draws the _last_. Look, Trix, that was a good move, but your mistake was trying the same thing twice in a row, essentially. Once Lucifer knew what to expect, he could counter it. You need to think about parrying too or retreating back a few steps when you need it. You can’t always be attack-attack if you don’t vary _how_ you do it.”

“But it worked!” the offspring counted.

“The first time,” Lucifer replied, deciding to ignore the ache in his right wing. Damn the blasted thing anyway (even if Father had beaten him to such a thought). “but I was kind to you as a teacher. Anything else would not be so.”

“You’re ‘kind,’ sureee. I think I bonked my tailbone too hard!” she griped. “Still, like I did slice the Devil. Do I not get a gold star or something?”

“You owe me,” Maze said.

“Huh?” Beatrice demanded.

“Give me thirty sit-ups. That kind of bravado is attitude. Attitude gets you killed. Do the exercises and then watch me and Lucifer go at it. I’ll show you what I mean about alternating an attack. You don’t want your patterns to be predictable if possible and never early on, kid.”

“Sit-ups! I think there’s rat cra---”

“Surely, Mazikeen---”

She crossed her arms over her chest again and glared at him instead. “Lucifer, I’m in charge of training her. You decided that’s the rule for all of this. I can’t have the kid getting a swollen head. So, get to the sit-ups, Trix, before I make it more.”

Lucifer noticed Beatrice grumbling under her breath. Foolish urchin. She normally knew better, that both he and Maze heard _far_ better than humans. Maze eyed him and offered him a quick, terse bit of “Kids these days,” in Lilim before turning her attention Beatrice and her crunches. The girl had just started and was going fairly well, but Mazikeen had always been a tough general and a fierce right hand.

“Trix, luv ya, kid, but I am _not_ a bitch. I mean, I am and I own that, but not when training you. That’s fifteen more.”

“Come on!” Beatrice heaved on what Lucifer figured was her tenth time up to her knees.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

Trixie glared at both of them but said nothing as she finished her collection of calisthenics. Lucifer tried not to notice the drip of blood from his right wing to the stage floor. It was slowing, somewhat, but being near a miracle was a current occupation hazard. It was annoying was all, and perhaps a bit embarrassing that a human---even one as eager and trained by as good a mentor as Mazikeen---had grazed him at all. He just hadn’t practiced any real sparring in over a decade, and that clearly had been a mistake.

Then again, he hadn’t anticipated a holy mission foisted on him either, and if were _anyone_ other than she or, he’d be bloody honest with himself, her mother, then Lucifer would have told Father to sod off. But of course, that wasn’t how his connection to the miracles worked.

So, he needed to get back in practice with fights, to understand how best to fight in a form built for anything but lithe dodging and stealth.

Beatrice took Maze’s proffered hand and hopped to her feet after her labors were done. “Man, I’ll try not to get an ego around you.”

“It’s not wrong to be proud of what you can do, but in a fight, the move you need to focus on is your _next_ and not how cool your last one was. I’ve seen more than one Lilim get killed that way. So, always on the future, and you celebrate once your enemies’ carcasses have been drawn and quartered.” Maze winked. “Then, kid, it’s a hell of an orgy!”

Lucifer growled a little at that. “Perhaps a celebratory bit of spirits with your first real kill outside of Esmée will be our goal.”

“Ooh, or you could, you know, hang out with Maze and Taka for the night and I could have Ted over---”

“I like your beau, child. Do not force my hand and, well, claws into castration.”

“You wouldn’t!” The urchin said, glaring up at him.

Again, she really didn’t understand exactly how it was like a kitten trying its best to hiss at a lion on the Savannah, but Lucifer was amused every time she _thought_ she could truly best or intimidate half of the Demiurge. Well, the lesser half of late.

“I think you and Theodore are splendid for passing the time with each other in my eyesight and fully clothed.”

“I didn’t necessarily say that---” Beatrice started.

“Guys, I think we should keep focus on the actual training. Lucifer, I know you love talking, oh _my liege_ , but let’s have Trix actually learn stuff for now,” Maze corrected. She turned her attention toward him and quirked her head up at his. “Actually, you might need some brushing up. I am good---don’t get me wrong---but you’re also rusty. The fight at _Tenebrae_ was a total runaway for me, and we used to be more like a draw.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the demon. “I can usually best you.”

“Can you? Look, I know you used to be into that all, let an idiot make the first move and dodge, but you’re built like a brick shithouse now, Lucifer, and I don’t think that’s really the best approach for you. I mean, be real, you’re more like your own battering ram than a sneak attack guy.”

He flexed his wings behind him and instantly regretted it. The right one wasn’t in any real danger, but it was sore a bit and stung when it was exposed to the air. Honestly, the urchin was a bit better than he’d have thought. No great shakes, mind. Clearly, still a sitting duck for more than the average leech, but not without promise. Perhaps he’d get her another dagger, something in iron might be helpful for some of the nasties out there.

“Then what do you suggest Mazikeen?”

She shrugged and started to pace. “I think that you did your best against me when you actually used those spikes on your wings. It was instinctive, not thought out, and it fucking _hurt_.”

“You want to really go at it then?” he asked.

“My siblings won’t, and I think you need back in the game, yes. Besides, Trix needs to at least watch how something large fights, figure out weak spots to buy her time to either hide or until we can get to her if the worst happens.”

The urchin had yanked a bottle of fresh water from Maze’s duffle and finished her latest sip on it when she pulled her bottle away and regarded both of them. “Hey! I could take something really big out some day, maybe. I mean, for all you know I’ll have like laser powers!”

Maze laughed. “Don’t lean on gifts. We lead with our fighting skills, always.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Almost always true, except back when Amenadiel could freeze time. That would be an impossible complication for a mortal to overcome, although I know of no paranormal beastie that can do such a thing.”

“Cool, great, need to worry about monsters who can stop time. Of course,” Beatrice said. “I’m serious, though. You two never have faith in me! I made Luci bleed and everything.”

“Lucifer hasn’t been in a real fight in over ten years, Trix. Also he was going easy on you to see what your skill level was. Something as large as he is in real life? Your ass would be grass. You just need to learn how to avoid and wound enough to escape. With a big bad this big, you win by living for another day.”

Lucifer snorted a little but didn’t add his thoughts. Mazikeen, the greatest torturer Hell had ever known, was hardly one for a big, scaredy runaway. In fact, she didn’t just go to the kill, but to the maximum levels of pain. But, perhaps, their current lives had changed all of them.

“I can do more damage!” Beatrice argued.

She must have gotten the whining from Daniel. The Detective was more likely to lecture, but she wasn’t one who nattered on about her lot in life. Ever really. But Beatrice, oh dear, there was nothing to gain from arguing when Maze was the referee. That much Lucifer knew from experience.

“Maybe, kid, but my job here isn’t to make you a soldier; it’s to keep you alive as long as possible. So, watch me and Lucifer, and see where I can get some wounds in. I’m faster than you cause hello! Demon. But I want you to be able to see where are some universally vulnerable points and what you can make up for by being small and fast, okay? Think find the soft spot, wound, run. That’s what you need to do.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “And of course, as humiliating as it is, you should add that fourth step of _pray_. Mazikeen will be able to scent you out fast, and I can come for you through the other planes quickly, but trouble means you call for me. Is that understood?”  
  


“So by other planes, you mean going to Hell for a minute, right?”

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did his mentee never listen? Surely, he hadn’t been _this_ obstreperous in the Silver City, had he? “It’s no bother, and it _is_ my kingdom after a fashion. Mazikeen isn’t wrong. We’re working to keep you alive. If you are merely able to wound something like me, then that’s all we can hope for. Then you run and wait for us. We can handle it.”

“But you have to admit I might get a badass miracle power and---”

He sighed and shunted his wings tightly to his back. Stepping over to Beatrice, he leaned down low and put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t give a toss if you develop the ability to immolate things with a thought, child. You only have to stay alive. No matter where we are, Maze and I will come for you. We would _always_ come for you. That’s all we ask because neither of us could bear the alternative if you try too much and end up dead. The Silver City is denied to us, and we’ve so little time---relatively speaking---with you. So, for once, Beatrice, try and listen.”

He stepped back, and beside him, Maze nodded. “Exactly, kid. We get like _maybe_ eighty good years.”

“Oh, I’ll bloody well shoot for a century. I’ve read about humans living that long and medicine improves all the time for you lot, and I’ve been reading about supplements---” Lucifer continued.

The urchin laughed. “That’s really nice of you. I mean, I’m not going to live on like oregano oil and garlic pills till I’m old, but it’s sweet you’re researching it, Old Scratch.”

“That said, Trix, we’re going to keep you safe. You just have to meet us half way with the right mindset and,” Maze said, continuing in Lilim. “what have I said about mindset?”

Beatrice surprised him by answering back in Lilim (and with a far better pronunciation than she ever had in Enochian), “The body fights the battles, the mind wins them.”

Mazikeen smiled. “Exactly, young one, so listen for once.” Then, she switched to English. “Oh, you’re surprised? Trix has been learning Lilim since she was seven. I mean, there’s been a break in it, and I didn’t teach her everything yet, but kid’s like a sponge.”

He blinked back to the offspring. “So, you’re trilingual?”

“No, I don’t know as much Lilim as I’d like. I think there are some awesome curse words that Maze has been holding out on me. But I guess, kind of, English---duh. But also Spanish and some Lilim.”

Lucifer shook his head. The Detective really would kill him if Beatrice ever let any of this out of the bag. Her offspring, here in a collapsing and molded out auditorium, learning mortal combat from the Devil incarnate and his top demon with bonus infernal dialect lessons to boot. Yes, well, Beatrice better be a good liar, and he’d have both Maze and Taka practice with her before she went home in the coming weeks.

“Anyhoo,” Lucifer said, slipping to the center of the stage and gesturing with a crooked claw for Mazikeen to join him. “no time like the present for me to kick your arse, Maze.”

His demon went to the duffle and pulled out some of her choice blades before settling on a small rapier of normal metal. It would pierce for now with the urchin near, but he was surprised she’d forgone a longer blade or even her curved Triad-won swords.

“Now, Trix, this is a lot like you and your dragon dagger. It’s small and easy to balance, but it’s for a quick, direct strike when you get the right chance. You need to do the same thing, wait for the chance.”

“I think so?” the offspring replied.

Maze entered the center of the stage too and rolled her eyes before giving him a tight bow. It wasn’t nearly as low as the one the spawn had given him, but Mazikeen only gave so much deference to him. It was that odd paradox that made him like her all the more. 

“Alright, _my king_ , your move.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maze and Lucifer square off in sparring...and then Michael shows up and offers to help.

**Chapter Twelve**

Trixie was a bit tired after wiping out with Lucifer and the sit-ups, but she didn’t dare sit on the floor as she watched Maze and Lucifer circle each other. The floor was clearly dotted with rat and pigeon crap and mold…and, okay, maybe Luci was right and she did take him to the worst places, but there were only so many locations you could take a six-and-a-half-foot tall Devil with giant wings. Still, she was tired already from the training and she opted to leaning on a rusted railing that gave blocked the seats from the stage.

Lucifer and Maze’s fight started and then kind of stalled?

Maze waited for once, and that was a surprise to Trixie. Her mentor always struck first and brutally. Ez had told her it was because Maze was so small compared to her siblings---which Trixie could see vividly now---and so she’d always made up for it by attacking first and asking questions later. But now both were circling the other and not making any real moves.

She yawned theatrically and cupped her hands over her mouth to call to her friends. “Dudes, I’ll literally be eighty before this fight is over, if you can even call it that.”

Lucifer didn’t turn his attention away from Maze but he did answer. “It’s her bloody fault. I’m not going to make the first move and get a stab to the side for my trouble. She just won’t go!”

Maze shrugged. “This is about your training too, Lucifer. I’m serious. Never striking first worked great for your other form, but this isn’t…you need to attack first, be that battering ram, and knock your opponent out or better make em dead.”

“I don’t need tips from you, Mazikeen,” he growled.

Despite how much she cared for her friends, Trixie was still human, and hearing Lucifer’s growl across the theater made goosebumps erupt over her skin. It was intimidating as, well, Hell. On the other hand, it was oddly reassuring that all of this was set out to protect her. Maybe she’d make it at least into her thirties after all.

“Charge me!” Maze demanded and Lucifer relented.

He hunched low and ran for her, and as he predicted, Maze was faster on her feet, jumped up and over him as he blew past her and collided with a row of chairs. The Devil roared and the chandeliers above shook so hard that Trixie worried they’d start having to look out for falling glass. Then, he turned and did the same freight train move toward Maze. The demon was ready for that too and she rolled to the right as he stampeded toward her, and it reminded Trixie of bullfighting. Maze was dodging as Lucifer sloppily rushed for her. He wasn’t really recalibrating his actions, and Trixie half-worried he wasn’t quite focused at all, that he was as angry and primal as he had been with Esmée in the crypt.

He made mistakes like that.

Not that Maze would hurt him. But Trixie’s mentor hadn’t been wrong. Lucifer was rusty at the very least.

Lucifer roared a third time but at least seemed to focus again. He turned but this time didn’t rush full out toward Maze. Instead he circled her again, matching every step of hers left with one of his own, trying to angle himself toward her.

Maze threw her dagger at him and he deflected it easily with a flick of his left wing, but the demoness had been waiting for that, and Trixie realized that as late as Lucifer had. From her boot, Maze drew out a hidden blade and leapt, and landing on Lucifer’s neck and back, she settled in place then. Maze wrapped her legs around Lucifer’s throat. He squirmed and tried to throw her from his shoulders, growls and other animalistic noises erupting from his throat.

Trixie frowned, noticing how his eyes were painfully, brightly red, and she wasn’t sure how much of Lucifer was driving this fight and how much of pure Devil was in control.

She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Maze rode him expertly, not falling from his shoulders but not quite able to aim a blade to his shoulder or at his throat to draw blood and end the fight either. She leaned over again, and Lucifer reached up and dug his right claws into her forearm. Maze swore loudly but didn’t scream, and Lucifer dug in deeper, his claws going under the skin.

Trixie set the water down and started running for the center of the stage. “Hey guys, I get it. Break it up!”

But it was too late, Lucifer pulled his arm forward with all its force and flung Maze off him. She hit the stage floor with a dull thud, and her blade fell from her hands, scattering across the floor and towards Trixie.

Lucifer’s eyes finally seemed to dim, to have some sense of clarity in them, as he regarded them both. “Yield, Mazikeen.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled at the hem of the dark t-shirt she’d worn with her leather pants. Yanking a strip of cloth clear, she wrapped it around her bleeding forearm. “I give, yeesh. Okay, maybe you’re not that bad.”

Lucifer blinked again and his wings were now pulled tightly to his back and his eyes were dimmer. He winked at Trixie and she relaxed. Good, apparently he wasn’t in a fighting mood any longer. “I drew the blood this time, Maze.”

“Yes, but you also crashed into things like a bull in a damn china shop. You definitely need work refining it, and honestly, maybe you need someone bigger to fight with. I mean, you do need to practice just totally slamming into someone. It’s kind of your strength.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “I’m hardly a slavering beast. I can do finesse.”

Trixie frowned, sensing the argument brewing between the two. Maze was a hard teacher, and Lucifer tended to be sensitive about all his changes. They wouldn’t hold back with each other verbally, and then her training day would get derailed in all of it.

Slipping in between the two, Trixie held up both hands, palms flat. “Okay, let’s not, uh, fight before we fight more. Maybe next time it can be me and Maze so Lucifer can give some pointers. It’s not like we have anyone pretty big for Lucifer to fight and---”

As if she’d accidentally summoned something, the space beside her started to glow with a bright light. Trixie closed her eyes against the onslaught and when she opened them, she found the most annoying angel of the lord standing there, this time actually in jeans and a plain t-shirt---one she noted had a Tulane pelican on it and what the fuck---as he apparated before them.

“Greetings all.” He nodded toward them in turn and stopped on her. “Miracle, I bring you news of the other ones like you asked.”

She shook her head. “Is it, uh, casual Thursday?”

Michael looked down at his outfit. “Last time I dropped in on Lucifer and Mazikeen, I ended up with parts of vampire on me. I thought this was a calculated risk to avoid losing clothes I cared about.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Oh Mikey, I’ve seen the off-the-rack crap you favor. It’s all utterly ready to be tossed in the rubbish bin.”

Maze snorted. “Well, you’re interrupting my training sessions, Michael. Maybe you can bug us in a couple hours when I don’t have some points to teach Trixie?”

Michael’s wings arched up and he flicked his feathers thoughtfully. “Ooh, I’d love to teach some things to the Miracle. I was head of training Father’s legions after all. Still am, technically, but I have left that task to younger Host as I check in on the earth bound of our brothers and sisters.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I remember quite well that you’re Dad’s chief warrior. How could I forget?”

Michael’s wings fell a bit and he had the sense to look at the floor. “Yes, well, I mean, I just thought I could help impart some more heavenly fighting advice to Trixie. Get a second school of thought on the matter.”

Maze shot Trixie a glance. “That’s a crap idea. First, Silver City has rules. A real fight only has one---don’t get killed. It’s why my demons are better than your angels in a battle.”

“We won’t cheat, Mazikeen. Do you not understand the point of honor?”

“I understand staying alive, and that’s what we’re teaching Trix. Honor’s great till a demon runs you through with a sword, and I know some of mine have done that more than once to you feathery pricks.”

Trixie gaped. She knew that intellectually, but it was different to hear it. To see two sides of an infinitely long war, even one that seemed stalled out for now, trash talking each other was a lot. “Maybe let’s not argue either about the best way to train me.”

Michael shrugged. “I only offered to try and help. I could go a few rounds with Trixie, if she’d like.”

“Actually,” Lucifer said, eyes blazing. “I was having a go with Mazikeen. She thinks I’ve grown rusty in my hermit lifestyle, and I can’t say she’s wrong exactly.”

Michael frowned at his brother, and it was odd still, even though it was easier to tell the difference between Michael now and Lucifer as he’d been (Lucifer would _never_ wear a t-shirt), to see those familiar-but-not brown eyes and sharp profile staring up at the Devil. “Well, would you like me to go through some exercises with you to help illustrate it to the miracle? Afterwards, I’d be more than happy to share my research with her.”

Maze and Trixie exchanged another worried glance. Nope, no way, nooope. Since the last time the twins had actually fought---not counting Lucifer throwing Michael into a grand piano----the Sword of God had banished the Lightbringer to Hell, well, there had to be a million hard feelings on Lucifer’s side bubbling over. She wasn’t even sure that Michael’s motivations were completely pure either.

“You know,” Trixie said, eyeing Michael. “Look, you wouldn’t do well with it, you know? I mean your glasses would fall off.”

“I don’t need them for a fight, Miracle.”

“Yeah yeah, and you’re a big tough angel and we get that, Michael, but we really don’t need an angel-Devil fight today,” Maze offered.

Yup, Maze too could see what a clusterfuck of an idea this was.

Lucifer’s eyes were both narrowed to slits but beaming brightly at his twin. “I don’t know. Sounds like a lark. After all, you just said, Mazikeen, that I needed someone bigger to work against.”

“Yeah, and Welkior is seven feet of razor-teethed, demon badass. I meant with one of my brothers and not _yours_ ,” Maze snapped, also slipping next to Trixie and between the twins.

“No,” Lucifer said, and he was eyeing his brother from head to toe, taking a hard glance at his brother’s wings. “I think that this might be helpful. Besides, Mikey, for all his faults, is far more skilled than any Lilim.”

Maze snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Oh, one of the best of Father’s. Honestly, _the_ best, but when it came down to it, you know up above it could have gone either way,” Lucifer defended.

Michael slipped the glasses from his nose and handed them to her. Trixie shook her head and pushed them back to the archangel’s chest. “Dudes, I really don’t think a brother rematch is a good idea.”

“If Samael wants to improve with his current…well, limitations…then I can do that.”

“Fuck,” Maze cursed, and Trixie nodded though side stepped with her friend and away from the twins.

There was no way now that Michael had accidentally put his foot in it (when _didn’t_ he?) and insulted the shit out of Lucifer that Luci would let bygones be bygones and ignore the chance to fight.

Lucifer opened his eyes wide and they were so bright, so scarlet that it hurt to gaze at him. “Limitations? Oh, Mikey, be prepared for me to most thoroughly hand your arse to you.”

Michael started circling his brother, and she noticed as his wings grew sharp like blades, the longest feathers almost glimmering like steel in the fading light of the auditorium. “Well, Brother, I’m merely offering some training to you. It’s what your demon said you needed.”

Lucifer held his claws up high in front of him. “Mazikeen is mistaken. I require no such tutelage from the Sword of God. I seem to remember many sessions where I bested you.”

“Not when it counted, and I bet I can beat you even now.”

Lucifer’s grin turned feral---that was the only word for it---and he rushed his brother with a growl. But he wasn’t running like a battering ram or without direction. He had learned that much from going against Maze earlier. Instead, he was going about 2/3 the speed, and anticipated his brother’s feint to the left. Quickly, Lucifer angled his body and slashed toward Michael’s shoulder with his left hand and claws. Michael brought up his wings defensively and Lucifer’s claws sparked, seriously _fucking_ sparked, against the long, sharpened feathers of Michael’s wings.

Trixie’s mouth fell open. She’d always thought of the wings as being something pretty. In movies or the Bible or like statues her Abuela Minnie collected, they were white and fluffy. Michael’s glowed with the light of God and were almost hypnotic. But she’d never expected them to be fucking sharp.

“They’re weapons.”

Maze grimaced beside her. “Angels are actually built to be weapons of God. They do all of God’s other crap too, but the wings are damn nuisance’s and hard to beat. Pretty, sure, I guess if you like that kind of stuff. Made to shred the shit out of things, fuck yes.”

Trixie swallowed heavily as Michael turned and punched at Luci’s midsection. This time, Lucifer didn’t dodge fast enough, and doubled over and gasped for breath with the force of the blow. Michael took the opportunity to rake his sharpened feathers up to Lucifer’s throat, but the Devil was fast and blocked him with a swipe of claws. He backed away then, getting enough room to run again, a lot like in the Cowboys games her dad always watched on Sundays, and aimed his left shoulder with its large claw directly toward Michael’s chest.

Luci’s eyes were bright but still seemed focused, but Trixie’s blood ran cold when he roared. It was enough to make Michael’s wings shudder and her friend took advantage of the distraction to dig his huge wing-claw into the archangel’s shoulder. Michael groaned and stumbled back, his wings flapping the air wildly. In fact, he was drifting far back enough in his confusion to get too close to her corner with Maze. The demon moved faster and broke left. Trixie started running right to avoid the flailing angel, but the longest of his feathers still caught her hip. She felt the slice of pain over her skin and looked down to see her yoga pants had been sliced through and blood was welling there.

It was superficial, and Michael hadn’t meant it, but it definitely wasn’t her favorite part of training.

Trixie stumbled, even as Maze yelled loudly for both “idiots” to knock it off. A bit woozy and disoriented, Trixie would have fallen to her knees, but Lucifer was at her side instantly---so fast that she could barely perceive the motion at all---and easing her to the ground. When he regarded her, it was with bright, unfocused eyes, ones so red she could barely look at them without it hurting, as if staring into the rim of an eclipse. He leaned low and sniffed at the wound, his wings flaring widely when he saw the trickle of red on her hip. He let out a low growl and lunged for Michael again.

After that, it was a flurry of blows and sparks that she wasn’t even sure _Maze_ could follow, and Trixie hobbled to her feet, convinced that this had suddenly turned from a brotherly rematch into something far darker.

As she got close to them, she noticed that Lucifer and Michael were locked together, a ball of wings and arms and legs tangled up as they rolled across the floor. Desperately, she tried to get their attention. First, grabbing a water bottle to fling at them, hoping literally cooling them down a bit would help.

It didn’t.

She didn’t dare get close because both were flailing around, and she’d already suffered the brunt of one wing attack for the day. But that didn’t stop her from calling out, her voice joining Maze’s to try and break up the fight.

“Lucifer! Michael! Come on stop!”

Lucifer rolled again, the red on top of Michael’s white yet wounded wings. He pinned his brother down even as the archangel looked at her and Maze both. “If I could get him to stop, Miracle, I would!”

Lucifer roared again and this time a chandelier did fall, crashing too close for comfort near her and Maze and causing glass to litter the stage. Trixie took a deep breath and inched her way closer to the brothers, even as Michael tried his best to buck and push Lucifer off him. But before she could get near, Lucifer brought his hand back and swiped at Michael’s face. It was only the quick darting of Michael’s head to the left kept Lucifer from cutting into his brother’s right eye. As it was, Michael’s cheek from the temple to his chin was a mangled mess and oozing blood.

“Lucifer stop!” Trixie ran forward, hoping her bets about Luci’s feelings on miracles were correct. If not, she’d be sent flying too. She inched to him and held her breath as she reached out for the side of Lucifer’s closest arm. “Luci, I’m fine. It’s okay. Michael didn’t mean to hurt me.” She pointed to her hip. “See, it stopped bleeding already. I’m okay.”

Lucifer’s eyes darted around her, focusing as best they could on her coagulating wound. He let out a low whine and turned back to Michael. Trixie kept herself from tearing up and spoke plainly to him.

“Luci,” she said, wrapping her hand around his wrist as best she could. “I’m safe. We’re all safe. Let it go. Uh, Michael’s my friend.”

The archangel stared at her with wide eyes. Even he knew that was bullshit at best, but Trixie’s words seemed to appease Lucifer and his rage. His wings dropped and he stepped away from his brother. Instead, he turned his attention to her, picking her up in his arms, and carrying her over to Maze’s duffle. He pulled out a water bottle and scratched at it, growling again when it shredded in his claws. Trixie swiped at her eyes, and then pulled out a second and opened it for herself. She doused a little on her wound to clean it, and then sipped some.

Then, she offered it to Lucifer. “Hey, Luci, it’s okay, do you want some? You fought pretty hard. It’s fine.” She soothed. “Hey, the miracle even says it’s fine.”

Lucifer’s eyes dimmed but he hadn’t said anything yet, just lowered his head and she held the bottle at an angle so he could get some for himself without ruining the plastic in his efforts.

“Shh, see, it’s all good!” She said, her heart pounding anyway because she didn’t know what they were going to do with a half out of it Devil who could take down the Sword of God. She and Maze wouldn’t be able to stop him if the just be nice angle failed. She reached out and stroked the leathery inside of his non-injured wing. “Hey, are you feeling better? I promise I’m okay, I really do.”

He blinked at her and then shivered. When Lucifer regarded her again, his bright intelligence was glimmering in his eyes once more. She took the bottle away from him. “Beatrice? I…what happened? I remember having a go with Michael and then…I don’t remember anything after that.”

She swallowed hard and hated how false the smile on her face felt, how it stretched her skin wrong. Still petting his wing, she sighed. “It’s fine. I…Michael didn’t mean to cut me, but I was caught in the crossfire. I’m fine.”

“I…really?” he asked, finally pulling his wings back and looking around them.

He gaped at the sight of Maze, of all demons, helping Michael to his feet. She’d pulled another strip off cloth from her t-shirt and her own was basically just a bra by now, but that wasn’t much less than Maze’s usual anyway. She was helping Michael staunch his wounded face.

“Lucifer, you good?” Maze asked, regarding him with her back held tight and a wary glance.

Lucifer stood and stepped away even from Trixie. She tried to get up close to him, to wrap an arm as far around his waist where she could to let him know it was okay. It _wasn’t_ , and she wasn’t even sure what the three of them had witnessed, but she wanted him to feel it was okay. She’d never abandon him. No matter what.

She wasn’t her parents, and what God had done to Lucifer wasn’t fair at-fucking-all.

But Lucifer stepped away from her, holding both palms up flat to her, and shook his head. “I can’t, urchin. I… Beatrice, Mazikeen…even you, Brother, forgive me. I didn’t intend for any of this.”

Michael shunted his wings away and shrugged. “I was the one who insisted on fighting. I had not anticipated that you’d be as proficient as you were. It was my mistake. I…Sammy, I’m not angry at this.”

Trixie noticed the tight set of his shoulders and the rigidity in his back though. She was the daughter of two detectives after all and a damn good poker player. Michael didn’t lie, but he was feeling something that wasn’t anger and wasn’t relief either. She wondered if he was as scared as she was.

Maze, being Maze, broke the tension first. “Well, it’s getting dark, this place won’t be fit to spar in, and honestly, all of us could use some booze and some bandages. Wanna go back to _Tenebrae_?” She gazed at Michael. “I guess if you have to hang around to deliver miracle info, you can come too, asshole, but I warned you about the fight.”

Michael held his head low even as he pressed the remains of Maze’s shirt to his face. “Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Is that angel for ‘I was a fucking moron?’” Maze asked, heading to her duffle to put away all her supplies.

Michael nodded and glanced to Lucifer. “Sammy, really, I’ll heal. It was my mistake for forcing the issue. I…whatever Mazikeen may have said, you’re assuredly ready to keep the miracle safe, and that’s only a good thing. It’s what the three of us want.”

Maze snorted as she zipped her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. “It’s the _only_ thing we agree on, Bird Brain. Now, we going or not?”

Lucifer nodded and spread his wings wide. “Maze, drive the urchin home. I’ll see you all there. I merely need…a quiet moment would be a blessed thing.”

With that, he gave a great flap and was gone, and it tore Trixie up fiercely that he would rather jaunt down to Hell than face her currently, but she couldn’t stop him either. Instead, she limped a bit over to her friend and the world’s dumbest angel, and figured out how the three of them would get back to the club.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sparring was a disaster, Michael and Trixie plan, and he explains about the other miracles.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Michael had a particular errand to run so he left the miracle to be taken back to _Tenebrae_ by Mazikeen and her car. Once he’d finished the extra task he’d set up for himself, he landed quietly on the balcony of the club and shunted his wings away. Although mortals expected all types of monsters and angels by now outside of _Tenebrae_ as well as within and none would have been shocked by his blessed wings, but old habits died hard, and he always hidden them away as fast as he could.

He needed to preserve the mortals where he could, just in case.

He needed to preserve everyone, but he’d been screwing everything up since he’d been summoned by Samael.

The miracle was before him, still leaning on her elbows and gazing at the rabble on Bourbon Street below. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and while Michael didn’t know everything about humans yet and while human emotion mystified him, he assumed this meant that Trixie had been very upset. Since she was outside at all and not near his brother or Mazikeen, Michael wondered if she were trying to hide it. That, of course, was in vain. Demons had incredible senses, and whatever Samael was now had keener hearing even still.

However, he coughed politely to help stir the miracle from her thoughts. He’d promised her information on the others of her kind, of those he’d sought out, and he owed her whatever info he could provide. Michael fervently wished that helping Trixie Espinoza now as well as her mother would free the burdens on his own soul, and fix the worry tearing at the corners of his mind. Nothing made sense to him any longer. And that ached.

Because he had served Father admirably, so how had that wrought suffering?

“Trixie, are you okay?”

She turned to him and rubbed at her eyes, but they were still as red as they had been. “Ugh, Bird Boy, I don’t know if I have time for this tonight.”

“First, Miracle, you are quite lucky that both halves of the Demiurge dote on you so.”

She snickered and shook her head. Perhaps all miracles had inherited such fiery souls too. That it was part of their make-up, designed to attract Sammy after a fashion. After all, the former Puritan and the Delphic oracle had been no less mouthy.

“Luci could kick your ass.” She hiccupped a little and raked a hand through her long, dark hair. “I think that might be our big problem right now.”

Michael nodded and rubbed at the bandages on his face. Charlotte had helped him once they’d made it to earth together, and he’d secreted her away in the city. He wasn’t sure how to hide or explain the cicatrix to Raphael or to Gabriel. The wound would become a scar, and that would raise questions Michael couldn’t answer.

“Samael doesn’t always defeat me,” he said. “I think you’ll find where it mattered that I quite handedly kicked him out of heaven. I…would that I could have done anything else, but Rebellion was such a serious offense, Miracle, and you have no idea how much.”

She shivered a little and rubbed at her arms. “Lucifer was really out of it today, wasn’t he?”

Michael nodded. He did not lie, and the miracle had seen the truth for herself. “I have never in all our time together, even as enemies, seen Samael as feral as he was tonight. I didn’t know that he was that strong until we were at the theater. I assumed it would be anyone’s game if we fought again, but the minute you were hurt…I have _never_ seen such ferocity in him before.”

She quirked her head and studied him with an impressive amount of scrutiny for a human. “You mean since the Rebellion?”

“No, _ever_. He was, to borrow an ill-fitting term, like someone possessed. The minute any harm at all came to the miracle and…”

“I…that explains a lot why even if it was a crappy idea, he had to curb stomp Cain anyway,” she said, setting her palms on the wrought iron railing of the balcony. The motion made her shirt ride up on her midsection, and Michael winced at the cut on her hip.

“I don’t know what that term means, Trixie, but I’m worried about your own wound. Are you alright?”

She snorted. “What a pair we make. No, I’m good. Maze cleaned it when we got home, lots of Neosporin and stuff. It’s not really deep. And I’ve had worse pain just from doing softball and sliding into home plate. No worries. I know you didn’t mean it when your wings flapped wide.”

“Of course not. Angels do not hurt mortals, or, at least, we try not to. But I am sorry I accidentally clipped you.” He stepped forward and set his palm on her hip. “I can heal that if you’d like?”

She shook her head. “Nah, it’s not even deep enough to scar---I asked Maze---and I can say for a few days that I got an angel wound to the Lilim. It’s some street cred, you know? Taka and Ez are going to be super jealous!”

“You are not a demon, Trixie. In fact, you are divinely inspired.” His lip curled up in an instinctive sneer. Demons were filth after all, even the Lilim. “You don’t have to impress Maze and her siblings.”

She snorted even though she didn’t yet step away from his touch. “The Lilim are my friends, and Maze has helped save my life more than I can count since I got to the Big Easy. So far, I think Lilim have done more for me than any angels. After all, it’s not demons that made me a total weirdo, you know?”

Michael nodded and even though his wings were shunted away, they felt heavy on his shoulders, as if being an archangel somehow didn’t suit him as well as it once had. But that was…earth was hard. Humans had doubt. His twin had only had doubt by the bucket full since before humans existed. It could be infectious, if Michael fell prey to it.

“If I had known what Father had asked of Amenadiel, had I been in a position to help---”

“You’d have followed orders. It’s what angels do, right? Your dad’s always the boss, even if miracles have to be made and die or Luci suffers. That’s kind of your dad’s jam, you know? My way or way worse than just the highway.”

“Humans can be very confusing. Sometimes, Trixie, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

She shook her head and finally stepped away from him. He had no idea why he was somewhat disappointed by that, but he was. “That’s cause you’ve spent twelve years going to meetings here, but not really being from here. I bet _Bones_ is the first TV show you’ve ever seen.”

“Well, unless there’s something on in an airport or a public space when meeting with a sibling, then yes. I understand the concept of television. It’s really quite ingenious. Technically, the human section of heaven even has something called Netflix now, but it’s nothing I have time for.”

“Can be a time suck, sure,” Trixie replied. She frowned and reached up to his bandages. “So, uh, that heals, right? Part of all the great advantages of being an archangel and one of the Demiurge,” she said that part in a fake booming bass.

Michael rolled his eyes but let her keep her palm flat over his wound. “That would normally be true, but Celestial weapons can hurt as can Infernal ones. I do not know if you noticed when Samael was more himself in Los Angeles, but the scar under his chin is from my sword. It has never healed. A wound from another archangel or the First Born will always affect me. This will heal some but the scar across my cheek will still remain in some form, Trixie.”

She gaped at him. “I’m sorry. I should have tried to call Lucifer off sooner.”

They stilled for a minute; both of them trying to avoid how horrible that sounded out loud, like Trixie had a pit bull on a leash and not the brother he’d always known. Michael knew most of what he’d thought of as his Samael was still in there, even under the horribly burned skin and the wretched wings, but there was something _other_ there too, something Father had shoved inside his twin. And it was something Sammy was correct about, and it was stripping him slowly of his Free Will.

Samael, the Poison of God, who had Rebelled and now was being punished because he was lashed to his instincts for the miracles.

And Michael had helped with that.

Honestly, he thought that it could work, could bring Samael back to the fold with them. That it could _temper_ him. If Sammy came first, then maybe Mother too. Michael had wanted his family whole again. Dear Father in abstentia, what had he done?

“You did a great job of staying his hand, miracle, and perhaps that is your burden as it is Sammy’s to protect you. Neither thing is completely fair.” He let her stroke his cheek a bit longer before reluctantly breaking away. Her touch was soft, and he felt comforted by it in a way he hadn’t by anyone in so long. A sad statement on his life since Trixie barely put up with him. “I wish that the miracles had stopped. For a long time when I was fighting Fenris, they had. I just…I didn’t know what Father’s changes had done to Sammy. I _didn’t_.”

Trixie sighed and dropped her hand, then she leaned against the railing and crossed her arms over her chest as she faced him. “I don’t even know if you’d have done anything differently if you’d known what Amenadiel had to do to my grandma. I mean, to be honest, your dad really sucks.”

“Miracle---”

“I’m at the Devil’s night club. I can blaspheme or curse all I want. I’m serious, your dad sucks. He probably would have found another angel like he did with Amenadiel to do the dirty work. He’s the one who changed Luci and didn’t even warn him, just shoved all these crazy instincts in him like an ani…” she broke off and tears slid down his cheeks again. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.”

She pulled her cell from her pocket and opened it. He didn’t know much about the technology but assumed she was pulling up an app, whatever that was. When she turned the screen to him, he gaped.

“I told you that the eye thing wasn’t just a weird trick of the camera or my imagination.”

He reached for the phone and traced his fingers lightly over the image. Samael was far from whole there, but one arm was purely angelic, would have matched for Michael’s in truth.

“How?”

“I think there is something to my theory. I think your dad sucks and, okay, it’s possible since the miracle stuff make Lucifer go all caveman on things, that your dad planned far out like ultimate fourth-dimensional chess for Lucifer to have to kill someone and enact the rumored curse.”

“Samael’s the one who’s fully infernal now. Trixie, I’d say that it’s way more than a rumor. Father had rules.”

She shook her head. “But that doesn’t fit. Amenadiel felt so bad he made himself fall and his wings rotted off. Maze says he _still_ can’t stop time anymore and it’s been years. You and Rae Rae have crappy vision but you’re angels and that makes zero sense, except it does only if you think ‘Hey, maybe the angel of death doesn’t want to see picking up dead bodies really well and you feel super guilty after finding your brother’s body.’ Lucifer pretty much hates himself and won’t take any compliments I give him about _saving my life and mom’s life_ , and he should take all of them. I’d have been dead by seven and murdered by a super crazy cop without him. So that’s all so much emotion and psychosomatic stuff and, okay, don’t laugh but I did take abnormal psych last semester and I think that Amenadiel was right. I don’t know how exactly, but I think you’re all doing this to yourselves.”

Michael sighed and leaned next to her on the railing. “Miracle, I wish that were true. I’d love never to have to deal with glasses that always fall off again. Believe me. I know that Samael wants nothing more than to rid himself of his problems, but how could we have the power to do that to ourselves? Why haven’t we done it before?”

“Well, Rae Rae did hers somewhere before the Renaissance. You and Amenadiel…even Luci, all set yours off when you started spending more time on earth, allowing yourselves to actually feel emotions and ties the way humans do. I think you’re torturing yourselves, but I don’t know how to convince Luci’s subconscious or whatever to _stop doing it_.”

“All this from one psychology class, Dr. Espinoza?”

She scowled at him and rolled her eyes. “No, I mean from research too and what I see happens. When Lucifer lets himself accept for even a minute that he’s not a monster---that he’s been good before---he changes. It doesn’t hold, but it’s a start. I…isn’t Hell based on guilt and what human souls think they deserve?”

“Yes.” Michael frowned at her. “What are you getting at?”

“I think Hell’s the second draft. It’s a place…I think your dad with angels made your own brains your problem.”

“What?”

“I think,” she said, flinging her hands up in her excitement. “that your bodies can be your own Hells because if you think it or are traumatized really deep down then your subconscious changes you _physically_. Luci’s is super dramatic, but Luci has lived on earth the longest, and he’d felt so bad because of I guess killing Cain? Afraid of your Dad, maybe?”

Michael felt his stomach roil. It rarely did as angels didn’t really need to eat much. It was a pleasure to augment the way they lived off of their own divinity and heavenly light, but suddenly Michael felt sick. He’d humored Trixie so far because he’d assumed as had Samael that their father’s wrath was absolute. And, if she was right, then this was Father’s fault, since He’d made the Host capable of such transmogrification and never even told them.

“It’s like being our own wardens.”

Trixie nodded. “I mean, and not even at a level you can control. I don’t know how you get someone to believe they’re not a monster when, let’s be real, all his family says so, and human history says so, but worst of all for whatever reasons and he _won’t tell me_ , Lucifer believes he’s a monster with literally his whole being. I just…we can fix him, if we figure out how. I…” she sighed and swiped at her eyes again, and her eyes were so red they were almost painful to look at. “…I’m not sure how much time he has.”

Michael frowned. “Samael is an immortal. With his wings, nothing could really kill him save for maybe the First Fallen or Father. Even I don’t think I could and we’re both equally strong or were once a long time ago when we were an even distribution of the Demiurge. I don’t understand.”

Trixie’s voice trembled. “You know what we’re both not saying. He was really out of control tonight, and I don’t know if that’s going to start amplifying. You didn’t mean to hurt me, but you cut me a little and Lucifer went all Godzilla on you. It’s not good, is it?”

“I don’t lie, Trixie.”

She nodded and sniffled. “I know you don’t.”

“I think that you’re correct and that the instincts have been getting stronger in him since the day he met your mother. I think that every time a miracle has almost died or been severely threatened in front of him, he’s let them take him over more and more. I am not saying that your proximity to him matters. By this time, after everything with Cain, I don’t think it does. I’m saying that the instincts Father forced in him are very strong, and you’re right---the sooner we can get him to uncage himself, to stop self-sabotaging, the better off he’ll be.”

“And if we can’t get him to let it go? To accept he’s a good person?”

“ _John saw it rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy_ ,” Michael finished. “I found Revelation metaphors nothing more than the fantasy of one of Father’s more intoxicated prophets. I…eventually there might have been a final battle between heaven and hell, especially if Sammy’s demons got rowdy, but my brother has hardly ever been the Beast of Revelation.”

“Till now.”

“Yes, I think things could go epically, _Biblically_ wrong. Where even is Father?”

“What if this was what He wanted?” Trixie asked. “Like if you want to look like the ultimate good guy, you need a huge Big Bad, you know?”

“Father always said the miracles were meant to bring Sammy home.”

“And He kicked your brother to Hell and then _made him_ or tried to make him torture your mom who He also sent to Hell for all eternity. Maybe your dad wasn’t about to go all puppies and hugs with Luci ever.”

“Samael does not deserve this. The Rebellion…it spiraled so badly but all he did in the beginning was ask annoying questions.” He softened a little even as the pressure in his chest ratcheted up. “To be honest, Trixie, Sammy was a lot like you.”

“Takes one to know one,” she replied. “We have to help him.”

“Then perhaps activating your miracle power is for the best, even if it will most likely draw even more supernatural beings to you. We can protect you as an alliance, but I don’t know what kind of time frame we have left with Samael. But perhaps your power will be able to do something to help Sam’s predicament. At this point, you have the Lilim, two angels, and the Devil himself to protect you. I worry far more about Sammy, and what’s eating through his mind.” He sighed and changed his topic a bit, “The other miracles were interesting, I suppose.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and huffed. “That’s a pretty noncommittal way to put that.”

“Alright, then I mean that the other miracles, the three I spoke with, reminded me of you, at least the women did. They were as fierce as you were.” He smiled at that, despite himself. “I’m not sure if I find your free tongue infuriating, Trixie Espinoza, or novel.”

“Can it be both?”

“Highly doubtful,” he replied. “However, the first was an Oracle at Delphi. She was murdered by a rival after about seven years in her position. She could scry the future and augur from entrails.”

“Wait huh, back up. I can read the future in tripe?”

He shook his head. “I do not know what you can do. If John Constantine told Lucifer that it comes from Will, then it is doubtful as _Sight_ and Will are hardly related. However, she was pleased with her gift, still considered it a blessing from Hera---”

“Wait, she’s in the Silver City but doesn’t believe in God?”

“Not exactly, no.”

Trixie shook her head. “I like her style already.”

“Anyway,” Michael continued. Maybe they could get the miracle lessons in politeness. There was cotillion or something around here, wasn’t there? He’d seen signs this evening somewhere when working through on setting up Charlotte at her place on such short notice. “for her, the power came because she’d used to pretend to scry, which is reading the future in water and crystal, with her sisters as a girl. She said she found comfort in her hobby. Trixie, what makes you the most comfortable? What can’t you live without?”

Trixie bit her lower lip and considered that. “I used to be pretty into violin, but I stopped that for six months when I got so busy in pre-med classes. I mean, if I’m really amped up, I doodle. But nothing weird has happened with my drawings. I mean, if it had, I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed!”

Michael frowned, thinking of the Indian food that had become croissants in his fridge. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, if I could draw something and make it appear, believe me, that would be pretty badass.” She frowned and her brows creased with the effort. “I mean, okay, this one time at _Café du Monde_ I thought I’d done something maybe? I drew this pic of a cat, and a similar one strolled by, but it’s pretty much a given that there are tons of black cats in New Orleans, you know? Besides, I doodle chronically and it’s not like I have a ton of extra sugar gliders or something.”

“Oh yes, like Beelzebub.”

“Yeah, I draw him like all the time. If he suddenly had like eighty brothers I would have noticed!”

“Well, if that’s the hobby you indulge in most, then it’s one whose limits you should explore. It might be very similar to the Oracle’s scrying.”

“What else?” She pressed. “What did the other miracles say?”

Michael sighed, wishing he could delay the truth to her a bit longer, but he was an archangel of his word and anything less than the truth would be beneath him. “I spoke with one who had been a Puritan in Salem.”

“Oh crap!”

“Yes, I guess you have figured out what befell her. She was burned at the stake for witchcraft and, to be blunt, was very mad at me and with Father.”

“Is that your way of saying that I was right, and the meaning of ‘blessing’ is really in the eye of the beholder?”

Michael shook his head and balled his hands into fists at his side. “You are still blessed, Trixie. You may not feel it now, and you may take a long time to feel it, but you are. Whatever my father saw fit to give you is a divine gift, something that few humans could dream of doing---whatever your skill is---and that matters very much. I will never say it’s a curse.”

She snorted. “You never learn.”

“I could say the same, Miracle. However, she said that her pyrokinesis started because she was very emotional, angry at her sister and then the unthinkable happened.”

Trixie frowned. “I…what’s ‘pyrokinesis?’”

“She could start fires with her mind, but the girl was young, barely your age, and couldn’t control it. Her sister did not survive, and she was set aflame at the stake soon after.”

Trixie sighed again and even though he was new to her life, Michael couldn’t help but reach at an arm and wrap it around her slim shoulders. Samael was in no state to comfort her currently, so he’d take his twin’s slack. After all, this was a mess Michael and his father had created. He had to mop it up as best as he could.

Alone.

“See, then we die and it’s awful and---”

His eyes blazed gold and she stilled beside him. “Trixie, I promise you that with all my power as the Sword of God, I will protect you too. And you’ve just seen how desperately Sammy will. I am honestly scared for any vampire or witch foolish enough to try and harm you. They will not like what comes for them in return.”

“Anyone else have a fun and terrible truth to tell me?”

“Yes, a final one, who could walk through dreams, manipulate that type of reality. He was from New Orleans almost three hundred years ago. He ran afoul of Esmée as well.”

“She mentioned she’d had a miracle for a while and another she’d just drunk and flat out killed. Which one was he?”

Michael squeezed her tightly and removed his arm, giving her space. “He was kept as a pet of hers or a business venture, truly, for over two decades.”

“He escaped?”

Michael sighed. “After a fashion. He slit his wrists and found freedom in death.”

“You mean another tragic end to a miracle, just like the rest of us.”

“Not your mother, and I swear not you. You think that any monster out there will want to deal with just Mazikeen?”

“Well, Hell no. She’s Maze. She knows like all the types of torture, gets bored, and _invents_ more!”

“Then, Miracle…Trixie, you are protected, I swear this. However, he mentioned that Esmée was one to talk even then. I think it’s not just suspected but quite likely the entire mystical community of New Orleans knows about you now and only living with the Lilim and Samael has kept you from being snatched away at all.”

“So I need secret service till I die?”

He shrugged and let his wings out. Michael still had his siblings to keep checking in on or the rest of the interregnum would know something was wrong, and that would be unthinkable. “That was a given. However, focus on your drawing and on harnessing your rage. You have quite a lot of that. Tons of fuel.”

She snorted and shook her head at him. “Was that a joke, Sword of God? Did you need to like sit down maybe? I could get you a bottle of water.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at her and flicked his primaries. “I can be funny!”

“Not deliberately, you can’t. I…thank you for getting that information. I know I insulted you a lot last time, and I still hate that if it came down to your dad being back and giving orders and what Lucifer needs, you’re going to go running back to Daddy.”

“You truly do sound like Mazikeen.”

She beamed back at him. “Thank you!”

“That was not a compliment.”

“She’s like my cooler, older sister. I want to be just like her if I can.”

Michael decided not to press the point that Mazikeen lacked a soul and Trixie, by her very nature, had one of the most pure and special souls Father had ever willed be made. They had a détente for now, for Sammy’s sake, and it was best to leave on an up note. “Yes, but…I serve Father. I always shall. While He’s gone, I can do as I please, but if… _when_ He returns, I am very much the Voice of the Presence and his Sword, just as once, Sammy was His Poison, or our brother Gabriel is His Hornblower.”

Trixie chuckled at that despite her obvious and very vocal frustrations. “Okay and I thought ‘Poison of God’ was bad.”

“Nothing prurient at all about it, Miracle.”

“Yeah, sure. I just…I’ll always hate you for that part, that you can just walk away from your twin if it comes to it.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but it is all I can give.”

“Because you never want to be a monster too?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head and pointed to the sky. “And that’s your cue to leave, you big old pigeon. Because you’ve got it so wrong, and Luci is better than you. He’s better than all the angels since he can think for himself and because he’s brave enough to.”

Michael spread his wings wide and turned to leave. He offered the miracle one last glance. “If we don’t help him and fast, Trixie, I fear that will no longer be so.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charlotte makes her presence in New Orleans known.

**Chapter Fourteen**

Lucifer closed his eyes and tried to…perhaps _relax_ …wasn’t the word. That was a fantasy at this point. To be honest, the best he could hope for would be to calm his cluttered mind, to still the rage that even now was still burbling at the corner of his thoughts, telling him that he best go to the lower floor, march to the balcony, and make his idiot twin sorry for slicing Beatrice with his primaries.

But that was utter bollocks and insanity.

Rationally, he knew that Michael hadn’t meant it, that accidents happened in sparring and _Lucifer_ had been the one to back Mikey into the corner and near the urchin in the first place. But logic didn’t apply any longer. And perhaps it hadn’t in the same way since Father had long ago thought it clever or necessary or perhaps just _efficient_ to sneak those instincts and the base need to protect the miracles no matter what into Lucifer’s brain. At either rate, although he could not remember turning his claws on his brother earlier that evening, Lucifer had seen the evidence for himself---both ripped permanently on Mikey’s cheek and chin as well as in the horror in his brother’s, Beatrice’s, and _even Maze’s_ eyes.

That was the truly terrifying thing, to see that he’d scared Mazikeen. In all their eons together, he’d never done that. If anything, when he’d been newly Fallen and trying to cope in Hell, Maze and her brutality, her lack of regard for honor and rules as he’d understood them, had scared him. But that was all different.

What wasn’t?

So, instead, Lucifer tried to calm his nerves with the last few minutes soaking in his tub. He avoided that activity where he could because it was just easier not to know and to avoid spying any of the extent of his differences now whilst unclothed. Dear Dad, that was why he had no mirror or anything even remotely reflective in his washroom. But the Catch-22 of all of it was that on days where he’d exercised too hard, where fighting or, in this case, sparring had gone too long, then his skin cracked open raw and fresh. He needed the water to ease his pains. Needed the chill of it sluicing over him. And sometimes, it was easy enough to close his eyes and rest thoroughly, to let his mind wander.

Tonight was not that time.

For when he let his attention drift, his keen ears picked up on the spawn out on the balcony of the lower floor. She was trying to be brave and, Dad help him, _sunny_ even now in her disposition. When he’d returned from the Municipal Auditorium on his own, she’d tried to offer a movie night to him with those wide, hopeful eyes of hers. But he was both a mess of cuts and oozing sores---the worst of it the gash in his wing----and too scattered to be fit company for a human anyway. Just not tonight. Still, when he was out of her sight, he could pick up on her true insecurities, on the way she’d cried, and now that his twin had landed, was whispering her own fears about Lucifer to him.

He sighed and finally forced himself to work his way out of his tub. He was as clean as he was going to be, and he needed to put on some music on the bedside radio…anything to keep him from going mad over his ersatz family fretting over him.

The time for Michael to have worried would have been four thousand bloody years ago when Father started insidiously changing him against his will. The horse was out of the ruddy barn now as far as trying to fix him went, and Lucifer was just so fucking tired, felt the endless eons of his life suddenly and as deeply as he had when the Detective had essentially thrown him out of Los Angeles.

Grabbing a towel, Lucifer spared no time in wrapping it around himself and grimaced at the pinkish tint to the water he left behind. His twin had gotten a few cuts in with his wings, which was fair, because in the impromptu sparring session, he’d done far worse to Mikey. But there gashes on his arms, one on his knee, and the tear in his wing from Beatrice so the blood was an inevitability, especially with a blasted miracle beneath and making him as mortal as he got.

Grumbling to himself, Lucifer hurried to his closet and slipped on whichever pair of slacks were next in the pile and then shuffled to his bed. His room was spartan because he just needed the space to spread out, but under his bedside table, he did keep a record player---vinyl was always superior no matter how the urchin mocked him. He picked out an old _Rolling Stones_ record and played it. If the acetate had started with “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” Lucifer would have thrown something. At least a concert version of “Paint It Black” fit his mood better as he tried in vain to ignore the whispered conversation about his health and his future not far from him.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to focus on the thrumming base and the frantic rhythm of the song and was _almost_ ignoring Beatrice and Michael when something piercing, and unwelcome gripped onto his nose.

Lucifer growled and opened his eyes, not even shocked that the evil sugar glider was clomped onto what his idiot twin (who had no sense of self reflection in some ways) had once called “ample territory.”

“Get off!” Lucifer said, poking delicately at first against the menace’s rotund belly.

The little beast had decided now was the time to stage his assault in apparently honor of the urchin. At any other time, Lucifer would appreciate the spunk of the flying rodent, but he was tired, half-out of it from the match that never should have happened, and in pain. Nothing like Hell of course. Nothing like the Lake of Fire, but it was a sharp stab to his nose, and he was so very over all of it.

Beelzebub dug deeper and twisted his teeth in deliberately.

And Lucifer saw red. Roaring, he gripped the little beast in his palm and yanked him from his nose with a squelching noise. Blood dripped onto his sheets in a current, but it was a moot point compared to the rage roiling through him. That insolent vermin had dared to invade _his_ territory and assault _him_.

There was only one penalty for that.

Reaching his hand back with a snarl, Lucifer was about to drive his claws into the rival beast’s belly, perhaps even enjoy an impromptu snack, when a familiar voice shouted to him.

“Lucifer, what are you doing?”

He blinked up in shock and dropped the rodent. The rage eased from him, finally bottoming out for the first time since the auditorium, and he realized in dawning horror what he’d almost done. He was annoyed by Beelzebub, surely, but the flying squirrel was no threat. And he’d hardly ever meant him harm before. Besides, annoyance or not, he was a weird part of their piece-meal family now, and Beatrice would have killed him (and as a miracle had as good a chance as anyone in succeeding) if he’d harmed Beelzebub.

Lucifer shuddered even as the sugar glider disappeared into the recesses of his room. Because that wasn’t even the worst of it. He must be hallucinating, must have gone round the bend, because Charlotte Richards, looking completely normal and whole in a pair of jeans and a black sweater, was stood still at the threshold to his room with a pained yet sympathetic smile on her face.

“Lucifer…”

“You’re not real. I’m having a nightmare or a night terror or just have utterly cracked. But you’re in the Silver City, and I can’t go there.”

Charlotte crossed the expanse of the bedroom in several long strides. Once she spied the alcove to the bathroom over her shoulder, she rushed in to grab a towel and then came to him, holding it tightly to his nose and against Beelzebub’s bite.

Confused, Lucifer reached out as carefully as he could with claws that had already done or _tried to do_ too much damage for the day and touched her wrist. It was solid and warm. “You can’t be here. No one gets to just come back. I…human souls have no bodies to them, and they rot on earth. It’s why Azrael must be so efficient. Surely, I’ve gone mad.”

Charlotte shook her head and kept mopping at his nose. “Yeah, Michael explained that part when he recruited me. A temporary reprieve and only because he could use some Demigorgon powers or whatever it was to give me a body as long as it was needed. I’m here for a while, and that seems like a very good thing.”

“Demiurge,” Lucifer corrected.

“Gesundheit.”

“No…that’s what we are,” Lucifer explained. “Mikey and I…the twin powers of creation. Or, well, I was.”

She kept staunching at the wound on his nose. “Was?”

“I have no idea what I am now.”

Charlotte held everything against his face but nodded toward the bed. “You should probably catch your breath. Not that I think a flying squirrel, was it?”

“Sugar glider actually,” he corrected.

“And I thought when Micah wanted a hedgehog that was weird,” Charlotte replied. “Anyway, I don’t think it’s going to be a serious problem and the sugar glider was upset but he scurried away to safety pretty fast, but I do think that some rest is for the best. Can you get a nap?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer replied, noticing how nasally his voice sounded---even through its low timbre---with the towel at his face. “I forgot so much when you were around.”

She narrowed sharp eyes back at him as they sat on the foot of his bed. Carefully, she removed the cloth and nodded when it seemed the bleeding at least stopped. “Forget what now?”

“That while my mum was in you, and you’ll always remind me just a little bit of her too, that you were a mum long before all of that.”

Charlotte nodded. “It’s a bit of some atrophied skills over the better part of 11 years, but yeah, I can definitely clean a wound and roll my eyes at dumb pet requests. That was Trixie’s idea, huh, to have an exotic flying squirrel?”

Lucifer chuffed a little at that. “All mine, I’m afraid. We had a bit of a row, and I thought she’d like him. Then, well, I didn’t expect the little mongrel to live with me. We are not friends.”

Charlotte kept her resolve and poker face far better than the urchin. Made sense, it would be impossible to be a lawyer and crumble at the drop of a hat. No painfully forced smile for now, and that was a comfort. “It seemed you were considering getting rid of the complication.”

“A weak moment. The urchin adores him. I…I was not thinking clearly.” _Or rationally_. “when I was about to strike. Please don’t tell Beatrice. I would never actually harm that rat.”

“Sounds very convincing.” Charlotte set one hand in her lap and placed the other on his knee. “How are you really?”

“I don’t lie, so I will honestly say, Charlotte, that I’ve seen far better days.”

“You also skate around the truth. I helped bandage Michael’s face so that plus the attempted squirrel-icide tells me things are really blowing up here.”

“Perhaps, I…has my twin filled you in on everything? I’ve no energy to explain angels and miracles and my father’s games tonight.”

She squeezed his knee kindly and, for a moment, Lucifer desperately wished he could pretend it was Mum here. That wasn’t fair to Charlotte, who in her own right was a dear friend, but it was no less true. He just wanted someone to fix it. _Anyone_ to fix it. He was exhausted with everything, with feeling so very broken.

“He filled me in. I may demand some flow charts later, and I met some of the other miracles in heaven, got my cross examination skills on. I understand most of this, Lucifer, as best as someone who’s still basically human in the middle of all this can. But I didn’t think you and Michael were actually enemies.”

“We’re not. I don’t care for the Daddy’s Boy, but we have a truce to care for Beatrice and protect her until she dies of old age---we’ll allow _nothing less_. He just…he accidentally hurt the miracle, and I wasn’t myself.”

Charlotte studied him with the same kind of keen intelligence she must have used to ferret truth out of people on the stand. “Like with Trixie’s pet just now?”

“Things get fuzzy. I don’t even _remember_ hurting Mikey, I just had to avenge Beatrice. It was very similar to what happened with me and Cain. Killing him in part because he killed you was a factor---”

“But not all of it.”

“No, I…he tried to shoot Chloe, would have killed her. I didn’t like that either.”

“So, everything Michael explained about the miracles as control mechanisms for you is true?”

“Insidiously so. As far as that miscreant Beelzebub is concerned, perhaps this _territory_ …” And there was hardly any other word for it. “isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

He felt his eyes dim, and his shoulders sag as he regarded the wood of the antique floor beneath him. That admission cost more than he would care to admit, to think that at an instinctive level he had anything in common with that biting, duplicitous bit of vermin, but territory was territory wasn’t it? And Beelz seemed to have it in his little brain to be as protective---despite actual logic---of Beatrice as he was.

Charlotte nodded and evaluated everything evenly. “I think I’m getting a clearer picture. It’s one thing to get the bullet points, but it’s something else to see it.”

“Yes, I assume since you recognized me at all that Michael braced you.” He sighed but still turned to see her face. “I apologize that I’m not the same handsome devil you remember.”

She knocked his shoulder playfully with her own. “It’s been a long decade or so. I don’t have a real body anyway. This is totally manufactured for however long it takes to help you out. You’re more colorful than last I saw you.”

“Oh counselor, I’m rather disappointed that you of all people would turn to euphemisms.”

She shook her head. “Okay, the first glimpse is fucking terrifying, but I’ve also worked for all of Los Angeles’s most intimidating crime families and been trapped for what felt like forever in a hell loop way scarier than you.”

He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Yes, the way they’re tailored to the sinner is horrid. Monsters, even ones as fearsome as yours truly, don’t tend to scare humans the way personal loss does.”

“Exactly, so after watching scum like Forrest Clay kill my family in front of my eyes over and over…” she shook her head. “You’re nothing.”

He dropped his arm and then brought his palm to his chest, affronted. “Oi! You too? I already have the urchin confusing me with a Care Bear. I’m hardly a cuddly toy or a muppet. I’m technically still King of Hell.”

She nodded. “And you’re not nearly as scary as the head of the Sarkeesian crime family. I hate to inform you, Lucifer.” Charlotte leaned back a little on the palms of her hands and looked out to the door of his room. “Michael brought me here to help. He doesn’t understand the human world the way we do, and I think he knows enough to get that your own history prevents him from helping but so much.”

“Assuredly there is more animosity still there than even I realized.”

And something darker and more feral that was all Lucifer’s own.

“Yeah, and Trixie is _just_ a kid. She wants to take on so much, but you all need someone who’s not a child to keep an eye on things.”

“You know, between Mazikeen, Michael and myself, we’ve existed for billions of years. Michael and I remember the universe before there was even light.”

“Yes, but he’s clueless about human things---trust me trying to get him to understand setting up a lease was not fun---and Maze mostly solves problems with knives.”

“I’m an adult!”

“Before you deviled out, Lucifer, you were pretty much the consummate manchild. I get it, but whatever you all need. I’m here. I mean, not literally. I have an apartment a few blocks over in the Quarter because this place is a full house, but I’m going to tell you like I tell my clients…back when I was in defense.”

“So back to helping pure evil, are we, counselor?”

“Honestly, I doubt that, even now. When I was a cop, I did a rotation dealing with a lot of domestic abuse cases. I saw the kids who survived that, was sometimes the last person they met before the social worker and CPS took them somewhere safe. It doesn’t excuse everything, but your father has set you up pretty damn thoroughly and this isn’t all you.”

“But you want confession?”

“I need the facts, all of them. It’s how I navigate things,” she said, regarding him with a stare almost as intense as his own.

He nodded and pulled his wings tighter to his back. “Then you merely need to ask, Charlotte. What do you need of me?”

“How bad off are you?”

“Five hours ago, I’d have said annoyed but mostly fine,” he gestured to himself. “All things considered.”

“And now?”

“Well, I tried to rip my twin limb from limb for accidentally grazing the spawn which I don’t even _bloody_ remember, managed to scare the crap out of even Mazikeen, and almost…possibly…maybe a smidge was about to rend Beelzebub asunder and have a snack.”

He blinked back at her, waiting for the screaming to start, for accusations to fly. That he understood. That had always happened before. Both with Amenadiel and Chloe, back when he’d lost any semblance of a home in Los Angeles. Even though the offspring tried, she always looked at him when things grew dark with such a wide, forced smile, one that had to hurt her cheeks to keep up. Somehow, that expression on Beatrice’s face hurt almost as much in a very different way as the utter terror on her mother’s had long ago.

Charlotte did nothing but kept her poker face expertly intact. “Are you out of it now?”

“No, I swear it. I know what day it is and where I am, and I’m not about to slash up anything a la Freddy Bloody Krueger.”

“Good, I…we can work with that then.”

He stood and started to pace before her, making sure to tuck his wings in to ensure he didn’t scrape the tips of his claws against the eaves of the ceiling above. “Do you really believe that?”

“I think I’ve done the impossible once before, Lucifer. What is your proposed solution for the increased aggression?”

“A…I’d call him a frenemy at best…of mine name John suggested I send Beatrice away. I think maybe he’s been right all this time. I’m utter poison to everyone near me, and you should know that better than anyone.”

She shook her head. “Revisionist history. I’m not damned because of you and Amenadiel too.”

“You’re not alive because of me!”

“I got an extra almost year. Before the first Celestial family barged into my life, I was already damned. If you sent Trixie where? Back to her parents’ house? Would that help? Could they even protect her the way you and Michael and Maze can?”

“Probably not. If some beastie came for her, there’s little a gun could do, of course.”

Charlotte nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then don’t panic. I’ve seen clients want to confess the minute they get into custody. It’s all about thinking before you act, a big reason you need me, for sure.”  
  


He stilled and regarded her. “Surely, I’m not always rash.”

“So you say,” Charlotte replied. “But I don’t have the memory of a goldfish.”

“Perhaps I do leap before I look too often.”

She snickered and shook her head. “Admitting it is half the struggle. Don’t run, don’t leave, don’t try and isolate yourself.”

“But I hurt Michael, would have done worse if Beatrice hadn’t talked me down. I was about…” he broke off, unwilling to mention again to her what a large part of him had _wanted_ to do with Beelzebub. “I perish the thought of what would happen if I turned that rage on the urchin.”

“You wouldn’t because that’s not how your link to the miracles work. And, be real, Michael can mostly handle himself, and if you accidentally hurt me, your twin makes me a new body, we start over again. Maze can definitely kick your ass. I think that here is the best place.” She paused and looked around the room. “Although I’ll make sure Trixie puts extra locks on the squirrel’s cage. I won’t tell her why _ever_ , but if we just keep you and Beelzebub?” She scrunched her face up at the name.

Lucifer nodded. “Yes, the urchin has a sense of both irony and humor.”

“Then we get some extra locks, make sure Michael is never dumb enough to spar with you again, and you stay with us.”  
  


He stretched his wings as widely as he could and sighed. “I’ll disappoint her.”

Charlotte quirked her head at him. “Who?”

“Beatrice. She can’t know. I don’t lie…but I just…do not tell her anything I’ve said. For so many naïve reasons, my charge looks at me like I hung the moon, which is not completely accurate but not far off either. However, we both know I’m anything but heroic or exceptional.”

“No pity parties.”

He let his eyes flare at her. “I do beg your pardon? This is not a mere mortal pity party. I’m the Devil, and I might be losing my mind. That is the stuff of Revelation.”

“Perhaps, but trust someone who holed up in a three-star hotel to drink herself stupid for a week when there was no easy fast pass to heaven.”

“Oh dear, you really were thrown by my better wings, weren’t you?”

“Still, I got over it.”

“Yes, well, fixing Father’s curse is a sight more complicated than even getting into heaven after damnation has been rendered.”

“Perhaps,” she said again, her face implacable with its Mona Lisa smile. “That said, I’m here to help you, but I don’t need you to moan to me like a whiny first-year associate.”

“Are you serious?”

She stood and regarded him. “Deadly. Lucifer, I’m here. Maze, Michael, and I will help you. It doesn’t have to be all on you or on Trixie any longer, but you can’t keep expecting everyone to hate you because we don’t. Even Michael doesn’t, and he’d have a reason to after your sparring gone wrong. But trust the woman who bandaged him up. Your twin is only worried for you.”

He sighed and scratched at the scab on his nose. “You all _should_ hate me though.”

“Nope, really don’t.”

“I just don’t want to let the urchin down. If she realizes how bad off I am…I don’t want her to cry and fret over my sake.”

Charlotte shook her head and patted the side of his arm. If the texture of his altered skin bothered her, she didn’t show that either. “I am sure that ship sailed. That girl always stuck her nose in everything even when I knew her, was always trying to help me either with her dad or with getting my kids back. I mean, she was nine, so the suggestions didn’t work, but she has a big heart like her dad.”

“You know the douche better than I.”

“Don’t push, Satan.”

“Quite, counselor.”

“Anyway, she’s already worrying about you all the time but trust me. I want to help, and I am pretty damn good at research and you have to believe that the top partner at _Richards and Wheeler_ once upon a time was one hell of a loop-hole finder.”

He laughed and relaxed when she did the same. The sound, well, he knew it was gruff and rumbling and startling if a human didn’t know, but Charlotte had seen far more of all three planes than any human ever had. He did need to give her a bit more credit.

“Then I hope you can because things just feel so very wrong, and I don’t know how to fight that.”

“You focus on Trixie’s power and taking care of her. Let Michael and me look for ways to help you with whatever stupid punishment your father came up with.” She held out her hand for him and waited for him to shake it. “Deal, right?”

“You’re out of heaven less than a day, and you’re making a deal with the Devil, how daring, Charlotte.” He chuckled again and took her hand carefully in one of his massive ones. “It’s rather good to have you back. I’ve missed you terribly. I…it grieved me that I’d never been able to say goodbye.”

She nodded and blew a bit of blonde hair back from her eyes. “For now. I…it’s not permanent. I can’t stay, but I’m here now, so think of me as part of the dream team.”

Lucifer dropped his hand and then rolled his eyes as Beelzebub scurried out of his closet and down the stairs like the hounds of hell were after him. If that little monster had ruined his precious few trousers…

“Some dream this is,” Lucifer said, pointing to the stairs as well. “After you, Charlotte. Just because we’re not technically human doesn’t mean we can’t get soused.”

“Now you’re talking.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Trixie dreams...or possibly sees a glimpse of more than anyone else could.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Trixie sighs and tries to recollect her stomach as Michael sets her on the balcony of her apartment.

Of course, she has balconies and prefers apartments as high up as she can get them. To be fair, in the historic districts of the Big Easy, that usually only goes to fourth floor at best, but she makes sure her homes always have easy access for angels, both for Michael and for Azrael, when she can come. The fact that Maze has given her access to whatever of Lucifer’s accounts she needs to pay for such accommodations helps. In medical school, she would have been stranded on ramen and in a box without the finances, but she couldn’t explain so much to a roommate, even if she’d found one at Tulane who was also part of the mystical community. There’s the magical people of New Orleans, and then there’s the Infernal, itself, and the side Trixie chose long ago as a kid is verboten even among those most humans would fear on principle.

She doesn’t care. She would never care because this is the price, both of her existence as a miracle and the choice she made at seven when she didn’t die at the barrel of Malcolm’s gun.

Still, she’s tired. The long days in the ER and the longer nights researching old tomes she _first_ has to figure out how to read are hard. And the weekends going off usually with Heaven’s most annoying angel to scout for more magic, more hints, more…anything wear on her.

But she bears all of it because she promised, and like the Lilim who are her best friends or the angels who consider her an ally, her word is her bond too, just as it has always been Luci’s.

She walks to her fridge and opens it. Despite everything, Trixie always keeps her fridge well stocked. An app helps her with that, but without enough coffee, caffeine, and protein in her orbit, she’d probably collapse altogether. She pulls out some deli-sliced meat and a loaf of bread and looks at the Sword of God.

“Hungry?”

He shakes his head, and she hates when he does it, when she can see the scar on his cheek and the wound that will never heal because it was left there by the Devil’s claws. Michael doesn’t mean to make it obvious to her, the reminder of what his brother did over a decade ago, but he does like that. She turns her attention to the turkey and spreading it out on rye.

“I can’t be around till this weekend. Gaudium, Dad help me, has poked his nose in some trouble. It’s a lot, and somehow the Norse are involved, never good.”

She nods and continues with making a sandwich with as much precision as she stitches up wounds. “That’s okay…I don’t have a shift off till Sunday. I’ll get to reading through the _Maleus Maleficarum_ and if something helpful…” She stills. It’s hard to continue because if nothing across three planes has been helpful in a decade, the odds this is the magic bullet finally are small.

What they need is God, but he’s fucked off to who knows where and even the archangels can’t find him. Begrudgingly they’ve tried and not for Lucifer’s sake and safety, as much as because the alternative of doing nothing is literally to dangerous for the fate of Creation. It sits badly with her that Raphael and Gabriel are like that, see their brother as a problem to be solved.

She finishes her preparation and bites into the sandwich. It should taste like something. The meat’s a good cut from a local all organic place she likes, but it’s flavorless in her mouth as much is these days. Trixie eyes the Sword of God again and nods to her food.

“I have some Coke or some beer even? Need anything before you go?”

“Miracle, I do not feel hunger the same way you do. We’ve established this low these many times.”

She shrugs and forces herself to keep eating. At 7 p.m. tonight she’ll be on shift, and she’ll need all the energy she can muster. After wolfing down half, she regards him. He’s leaning against her sofa, not quite willing to leave, and she wonders if he has something he wants to add. The other archangels help because they fear Armageddon more than they hate Lucifer. _Michael is different_. He’s not as onerous as she believed him to be as a child. No. But she has no illusions of anything. Not anymore. And he is still loyal to God. They both leave it unsaid between them that if God ever returns and wants Michael to _take care_ of his twin, that Michael will obey his father in hopes of avoiding his twin’s fate.

She cannot like him because of that. Trixie cannot respect him either, but she can work with him. His guilt and hand in this mess…it makes him a comrade for now, but that is all it is. She knows one day the Sword of God will finish his work and snuff out his father’s poison. At least, it’s quite possible if she can’t fix this all first as she swore long ago.

“Something else? Maybe I have some string cheese?”

“Trixie, you’re doing an admirable job trying, but maybe it’s time---”

He doesn’t get to finish because Lucifer rushes through the doorway to his quarters and comes to stop at the edge of the kitchen with wings spread wide, mouth drawn into a fierce snarl.

He will never trust his twin, not ever, in large part because of the small scar she even now has on her hip. One Maze thought would heal but never quite did. Lucifer has a long memory though, and he wrongly fears that Michael will harm her. It couldn’t be further from any logical truth, but logic is not Luci’s specialty any longer if it ever was.

She picks up the bag of turkey and walks toward him, her smile forced and bright and she hates that. Hates the way she feels like a damn kindergarten teacher with him. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. Couldn’t be. And yet some small, angry part of her wonders if it is. God sent his wife to be tortured for all eternity by his so-called favorite son. He let his eldest rot his own wings off. Who’s to really say if this wasn’t the ultimate design of any miracle, to not be so much the Devil’s leash?

 _As his keeper_.

She would do that gladly, but she hates what it’s done to him. It isn’t fair, and if she ever meets God, she doesn’t give a fuck what Michael has always warned her or what Lucifer tried to explain. She would bear any punishment to punch the being just once, to let Him know that _this miracle_ doesn’t approve of what he’s done to his son.

To the way he’s dampened the Lightbringer completely.

Trixie hands him the turkey as a lump, taking it from the plastic that his claws have no hope of contending with. Reaching up as he gobbles it down, she pets the inside of his wings. He likes that, always has, and it calms him, keeps him from launching himself at his brother. She hazards a glance at Michael. He is resolute as always, his back ramrod straight and his wings held high. It does not escape her notice that his primaries are sharpened just in case Lucifer strikes out.

It has happened before.

In his eyes, ones that are still so painfully familiar to her for other reasons, Trixie finds no fear or disgust, just fathomless sadness. She wonders if hers would look much like the archangel’s if she bothered to seek out a mirror.

Lucifer’s eyes are always so bright these days, such vivid crimson that it hurts her to gaze at them. There is no intelligence there, no wry humor, no artistic appreciation. No sharp intelligence. There is the Devil, the Beast of Revelation, and he long ago smothered out the parts of her friend she always knew. She cares for this Luci too, but her heart twists and aches for him more often than not, and she wonders if she’d never come to New Orleans, if he’d be better somehow, still at least headlining at _Tenebrae_ , or if it was all set in motion the minute he slew Cain.

That he was always destined to be the monster even the Lilim fear.

“Hey,” she says, soothing him like a colt she met once on the set of a western her grandma filmed long ago. “see that’s good, right? Luci, you know Michael. He’s our friend. He’s not gonna hurt me.”

Lucifer regards his brother as if they hadn’t spent millions of years together making the very fabric of the universe, sizing him up with as much animalistic malice as Beelzebub did to Lucifer years ago. There aren’t twins here. There is the Beast of Revelation assessing the threat to his miracle and the strongest of the archangels, who may some day still present a threat.

She eyes Michael and shakes her head just a little even as she keeps stroking the webbing of Luci’s wing to placate him. The archangel understands and although it isn’t smart militarily speaking, he shunts his wings away, presents Lucifer with no weapons at all.

“Brother, how are you?”

Lucifer quirks his head at Michael and lets out a small chuff. It’s no longer a growl, so Trixie offers Michael a tiny, relieved smile and uses her free hand to squeeze Luci’s shoulder. “He’s better, aren’t you? I…he just wants to make sure I’m safe.” She tries to give Lucifer the best smile she can, even as her heart breaks again for the millionth time. “I’m fine, Luci. I promise. Michael was my ride to get a book, that’s all. He’d never hurt me.”

Michael nods at his brother and brings a fist to his chest. “I swear it, Sammy. I’d always protect her. The miracle deserves that.”

Lucifer lets out a low rumble in his chest, but there’s no real heat in it. From whatever Trixie can guess, she assumes it’s the best he can do to agree or maybe swear he’s protecting her too. She offers what she can as Devil interpreter and nods to Michael.

“I feel very safe with both the Demiurge protecting me. I couldn’t be more okay, Luci.”

He seems to finally accept that and gives one more look to his brother before disappearing back into the recesses of his bedroom and en suite. Knowing Luci, he’ll go all the way to his bathroom and hole up out of sight.

Some habits are ingrained and die hard even now.

When he’s gone, she walks over to Michael and leads the archangel to the balcony. He waits a few, gravid moments before releasing his wings again. She lets him gather his thoughts. It’s been months since he’s seen Lucifer, and she knows that’s by his own design. She cannot imagine what it costs him to see his twin---his former mirror image---so warped. She doesn’t ask. And sometimes, just a little, she tries to bury the truth from herself that there is a perverse comfort in hanging out with Michael. In spite of his curly hair, glasses, and questionable fashion sense, she sees Lucifer---the one she knew---in him too, and it energizes her more to restore her friend back to what he was.

More than that though, Michael is the only being in all of Creation who misses Lucifer like she does. That much Trixie knows, even if their loyalties will never be the same.

“Is he happy?” Michael asks, and his voice is so quiet that at first Trixie thinks she misheard him.

“He seems peaceful. At least I think he does. We watch TV together when I’m home, and as long as I’m near and he can see me, he relaxes. I…for a while in the first place I had, I tried sleeping with my door shut, but he’d get upset and whine at night, and then just slice through my door thinking I was hurt. He just has to check on me a lot because he’s scared something will happen to me if he doesn’t watch all the time. I…I don’t know if the Devil exactly has object permanence right now.”

“What about when you go to work?”

“The Lilim come. Maze keeps him sedated with something John Constantine cooked up. He’s never at rest unless I’m here.” She sighs. “But when I am…he’s okay. He’s not hurt.”

“Would he know if he were?” Michael asks and something gold and furious flashes in his eyes. Recently, although she dares not to ask, Trixie wonders how much Michael sings his father’s praises.

“He would. Lucifer just knows he needs to keep me safe and when he sees I’m okay, he’s happy. It’s what I hold onto that at night when I’m here and on the weekends, he’s calm, and he likes me being here. I can fix this. I just need---”

“It’s been the better part of a decade, Miracle.”

“But you all live forever so that’s like not much time and at all and---”

Michael sighs and flecks his feathers into position to take flight. “One day, Trixie, you’re going to have to stop lying.”

“I never lie. I don’t promise Lucifer it’s gonna get fixed soon or anything cause who knows how long this will take. Besides, he wouldn’t understand anyway, and I only tell him that he’s my friend, and I’ll always take care of him. That’s true. It couldn’t not be!”

Michael eyes her again, and he looks ancient somehow, far older than when they first met, as if the trials they’d weathered could actually leave an archangel decrepit somehow. “I meant lying to yourself. It might be best if you accept that despite as hard as we try, that this is as it is. That this is the Samael we have for now.”

“I won’t abandon him. There’s always a loophole or a spell or an amulet, and I will find _all of them_ before I leave Lucifer like this. How could I do anything else?”

Michael sighs and pulls his wings in tightly. Then, he turns and strokes her cheek. “Miracle, I want to save Sammy more even than you, I promise you that, but you can’t hate yourself if you can’t actually accomplish that feat.”

“I don’t---”

“You didn’t do this to him. Father and I did, and perhaps it’s best to adjust our own expectations and deal with the Samael we have and not the specter of the one we’ve lost.”

“He’s in there, and I _will_ save him.” She pulled away from him. “Are you saying that you, the dude who fought a giant Norse wolf for 200 years, are getting bored?”

“No, but I’m saying I’m trying to be honest with myself and with what Father has wrought. If Sam’s always like this, at least for the span of your lifetime, you need to make peace with that too, Trixie. I’d always help. I would go to every ancient site and relic and witch from here to the ends of the earth, but I need you to understand that it may yet prove futile for this year or in a hundred from now.”

She nods and wishes her eyes didn’t burn. Every time she thinks she can like Michael at least as a friend and not a fellow soldier, every fucking time, he makes himself loathsome again, makes her angry by voicing the thoughts she never lets herself admit she has.

She pulls away from his soft touch before speaking, “He’d never stop if it were me. You know that.”

“I do, but he’d want you to have a human life, Miracle, before you die. This…it’s not living, Trix. For any of us.”

“You are tired of him!”

“No, I think that…it might be best for a while if you thought about leaving the arrangement. I know Samael. I know who he was and what he wanted, and if he understood the lonely half-life you have now, he’d be furious with me and Mazikeen both for letting you keep living it. I’m saying maybe give yourself a decade or two, have a life. I…John and I will keep searching for cures in the interim.”

“He’d be upset and confused without me. He only knows that he has to protect me. If he can’t do that, he gets scared and angry.”

Michael nods and it breaks her heart to see him. To see his hand trace the outline of his scar and his eyes grow clouded with worry. “We could find a way to keep him sedated or perhaps content enough without you for a while. We might even find the cure without you too. I just…Samael made _me_ promise to give you a life, Trixie Espinoza. Before the Devil was all that he was, Sammy made me swear an oath as his _twin_ that I would ensure you had a happy, healthy life. And this is neither of those things. I…this is what Sammy really wants, please. Do think on that.”

“I won’t leave him.”

Michael nods again. “You’re amazing, Miracle, and you spend your whole life saving strangers or saving him. You are everything Father could have blessed in a divine soul, and you deserve a family and happiness and human friends and all of it. And if you stay here, you will be denied every last bit of them.”

“He’ll be sad without me.”

“The Samael who was would be sad knowing this has happened to you.”

“It didn’t!” she shouts, throwing up her hands. “I did it to him. I’m a fucked up stupid trap from your dad. My _mom is the same thing_. Once he killed Cain because of her and me too a little…well, once he made that choice to save my family, he damned himself. I can’t…I love him. He’s my best friend.”

Michael sighs and steps to the edge of the balcony. “I know that but think of what he truly wanted for you. Think of what our Samael would say. Just do ponder it over, please. You may not believe this, but I have never broken a vow, and I will not do so now, not to the memory of all Sammy was.”

“He’s _not dead_!”

Michael regards her one last time, and she wishes that for once he didn’t look as Lucifer had. It is like seeing a ghost. “But the Sam we knew is gone, and Miracle, we need to admit he’s not coming back any time even remotely soon.”

With that, he flies off into the night.

Trixie takes long, deep breaths before heading to her room. She leaves the door open as she grabs a quick shower (Lucifer never came in or ventured as far as her bathroom, he just was confused by doors, felt calmer if none were shut near him), then shoves on her favorite sweats. Retrieving a beer from the fridge first, she eases her way into Luci’s room, her best kindergarten teacher smile on her face.

He’s not on his bed or in the mats and blankets on the floor. His TV is playing in the background, and she’d left it on Disney+ that morning and its mostly cycled through the _Mighty Ducks_ films and related kids’ crap from decades ago. He must be in his own en suite, one built to spec with a bathtub deep enough to fit the Beast of Revelation, to soothe his burns when they bother him.

“Michael’s gone. You can come out now,” she says. “It’s okay. The miracle’s safe.”

He comes slowly out from the bathroom doorway. His bright eyes glitter like rubies even now, and while they’re almost too bright to stare at, they are still beautiful in their ferocity. She wishes for the billionth time in years that she hadn’t failed him so far. That she had the right key to save him for sure this time.

“Hey, Luci. Do you want to hang out?” She takes a sip of her beer to calm her nerves. “We can watch _Bones_ , would you like that?”

His wings perk up adorably, even now, and she barely blinks before the devil has covered her up in blankets on the floor and has his left wing wrapped around her like a burrito. “Miracle safe.”

She wants to cry so badly as she always does when he talks. He doesn’t much, and the few words he utters still, somehow for all their gruffness, retain his British lilt. Luci---their Luci---is trapped under these horrible instincts somewhere, jailed by his betraying flesh, and if she could just figure out how to fix him…if she could just save him this one time when it really mattered…

Trixie pulls away from him just long enough to grab the remote and pulls up his show. Why he still has such an affection for this in addition to the bright colors and happy stories of Disney, she doesn’t know. _Bones_ isn’t awful, but it’s hardly her favorite show. But the Devil is as devil does, and if it calms him, she’ll watch it 500 times and then 500 more. His wing is back around her soon and he nuzzles at her hair, and she knows it’s what a dog would do to make sure its master is okay.

It's so very wrong, but it keeps him happy, and she’s learned the hard way that an upset Devil is a truly dangerous being to cross. Not for her, _never for her_ , but for the rest of the Big Easy.

“Shh, Luci, you like Michael. He’s our friend. I’m fine.”

He nuzzles her again even as the credits blare. “Safe?”

She can’t…for once her exhaustion and Michael’s words…and Mikey’s _appearance_ …all are too much, and she can’t offer him a platitude. The dam breaks, and she starts to cry hard, tears streaming down her face as Lucifer panics beside her, keening next to her even as his other wing moves to cocoon her off from the world.

She’s in a womb of red and leathery membrane and for just a moment, she wants to give up and never come out.

But she is made of sterner stuff, of the tiniest hints of divinity, and she _will not_ quit. She will never leave him like this, no matter what.

“Miracle sad.” Luci whines a little and tries to rock a bit, to soothe her even though it just makes being in a Devil burrito even more disorienting. “Fix.”

She sniffles and pulls away as best she can. Trixie pets the webbing of his right wing, the one that still carries a hint of scar tissue from where her dragon blade sliced it in practice long ago. “Open up your wings, Lucifer, please. I…it’s too warm.”

He stares at her even as he whines again. His bright eyes brook no understanding, and he wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how.

They have that in common.

She nudged his right wing again. “Open, Luci.”

He finally gets that much, and she lets him keep his left wing around her. Sighing, she leans up and kisses the rough, scarred edge of his cheek the way she had back at _Tenebrae_ , the way she would kiss her father’s if they still spoke. But neither her father nor her mother can be in her life. They would find out about _Lucifer_ and make her stop, so she’s lied to them instead. Driven them off because he’s only like this because of her family, and it’s her debt to repay.

To fix.

Lucifer’s posture relaxes and his eyes grow dimmer, easier to see. There’s no intelligence in them---there never is these days---but he offers her a small, tentative smile, yellowed fangs and all. “You’re not sad?”

She hugs him tightly. It’s the best sentence he’s made in months, and she forces herself not to cry at how pathetic a victory that is. “I’m fine, Luci. Sometimes Michael says things that make me think too hard. I’m here, right? And if I’m with the Devil, I’m safe. And you know why, don’t you?”

He points to himself with his right hand. “Devil.”

She nods and does the same, pointing to herself. “Miracle, and we know what the Devil does, right?”

He nods eagerly and squirms a little in his enthusiasm. “Miracle safe!”

She nods and strokes his left-wing membrane from where it’s wrapped still around her. “Always, Luci. You always do, and I promise, no matter what, I’ll protect you, okay? I don’t care…this isn’t your fault. It would never be your fault, and I will always take care of you because that’s what you do for me.”

And that wasn’t untrue. A very unfortunate mugger a bit over a year ago found out the hard way what happens when you mess with the Devil’s ward. He’s still in one piece, but he won’t be leaving his asylum ever again.

Trixie couldn’t care less.

“Love miracle,” he says, a low rumble in his throat that she understands carries a promise in it too, that he’d claw through anything that would dare harm her. Would make it suffer first. Good, she’d do that for him as well.

“I know, Luci. I love you too. You’re my best friend. Now, can we maybe watch _The Lion King_? I hate _Bones_.”

His eyes glow brightly, and she rolls her own. “ _Bones_ good.”

She curls up with the Devil again, as she will a thousand nights more, and sighs. The worst part of her personal hell loop is probably the entertainment and not the company. Never that. She loves him all the same---the smug partner of her mother’s who saved her life in a hangar, the star of _Tenebrae_ who fretted like a mother hen over her dates, and the loyal Beast who wants to keep her safe because it’s the only thing that matters to him, even if he has no say in it. And she will fix him.

Because she _promised_ , and she may not be actual Lilim but she is in spirit, and she is the girl the Devil helped raise, and her word is her bond.

She just doesn’t know how yet, but she has time, and until then, she has her guardian Devil with her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her terrible nightmare or possible vision or Trixie's not quite sure what...Lucifer comforts her and they make a pact.

**Chapter Sixteen**

Lucifer didn’t sleep much. It was for the first time in a while not due to his nightmares or regrets or even the gnawing fear of himself and that instinct digging into his mind. No, if anything, he’d been happy. He and Charlotte had caught up in his room and over drinks. She hadn’t left till three a.m. and back to her place. She’d promised to come back with his idiot brother in tow to have dinner with them, the five of them together, to figure out what the next steps were to help take care of Beatrice and uncover her power.

Yes, he was terrified over what had happened yesterday, after he’d almost mauled his own twin. However, it didn’t matter. Well, he _didn’t_. As long as he found a way to help Beatrice, to keep her alive and happy, to give her a good, human life, then the rest of it was ancillary to him.

It was helpful to have Charlotte back. She’d been competent in life and was no less brilliant now. He’d meant it with Chloe on that hill side, it had grieved him handedly to think of a life where he’d be unable to say good bye to her, to let Charlotte know how she’d impacted his life for the better. This was as they all knew a reprieve, but he felt less overwhelmed for once, and he was glad that when the time came for Michael to take her to heaven, that he’d be able to wish her well on his own terms.

It eased a pain in his heart that he didn’t realize he was still carrying with him. So, for once, it was with a bit of bounce in his step that he walked down his stairwell and to his main floor. It wasn’t yet six o’clock, and he expected the urchin to be asleep in bed. What he did not expect was to find her sitting on his sofa under one of his thick alpaca blankets and with that rat sleeping on her chest. The lights from the TV were flickering although the sound was so low that he wondered how a mortal could have even heard it.

Glancing at the telly, he looked then to Trixie. “What are you watching, urchin? Also, did you sleep?” She regarded him with large, reddened eyes, ones that were somewhat swollen. He was worried that she hadn’t slept at all. He eased to his couch and sat next to her. “Beatrice,” he said again, carefully reaching out to touch her shoulder.

The little rodent opened one eye and shivered in her lap, but he did not dare try and bite Lucifer this time. It wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted Beezlebub to stop harassing him, but Lucifer recognized what had happened, how desperately he’d scared the rodent to keep it in line. He wouldn’t have eaten him. Probably. But at least he’d never have to deal with bites again as a wake up call.

She was crying softly, had started up at his touch. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Are your parents alright? Did something happen to them or to your gran and grandad?”

She shook her head. “No, they were fine when I texted last. I just didn’t sleep.”

He looked back to the telly even as she pressed mute. It was some cartoon dreck, something Disney of course, but one she hadn’t preferred as a child and he had little reference for. However, the cartoon girl in the golden ball gown and the creature dancing with her that was neither lion nor wolf nor stag but some hideous mix of the three seemed self evident.

“ _Beauty and the Beast_ , urchin? I always thought you loved the computer things like _Frozen_ and _Tangled_ , all that rot you made me watch over and over again.” He offered her a smile but it made her cry harder.

Oh dear, and he was hopeless with girls crying. He was half tempted to call Mazikeen and Takazeen from their floor up here, but neither Lilim were exactly a soft touch either. Whatever had happened?

“Did young Theodore break your heart already?” A low growl he couldn’t quite control escaped his throat. “If he has, then just tell me. He’ll find out it’s in rather poor taste and quite dangerous to betray a miracle.”

She stopped and then he knew, understood exactly what had caused her sleepless night. It was something he’d never seen in her eyes before with him, not really. _Fear_. The offspring stopped and her eyes grew wide. It was only a few seconds before she corrected herself, but he’d seen it. Worse, she knew he’d noticed.

“I…no, Luci. It’s not him at all. Or even my Omega Chi sisters.” She stroked Beelzebub’s soft snout and sighed. “I was just tired, that’s all.”

“At six a.m. you look more as if you wish you could head back to slumber.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “Beatrice, you can tell me anything. I promise that you can. You also know me, that I’m a Devil of my word, and I shall never…not in a million years…lie to you. Please, just tell me what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer at first but finally after far too long turned fully to look him in the eyes. She was the only human he knew who’d willing do that with the Devil, and he loved his ward all the more for it. “I’d do anything to fix you, you get that, right? That we’re a team. It’s weird and we didn’t have a say in it, but we’re here now and there’s nothing I wouldn’t try to make you normal, well, for you again. I would do anything I could think of to make you humanish, Lucifer. I would.”  
  


“I will say that selling your soul to other Fallen is both pointless as they lack Dad’s power and foolish and I forbid it. Also, you most certainly better not mean such an idiotic thing. If you ever thought of doing something…of hurting yourself for my sake, child, I’d be livid.”

“You’re like this because of the miracles…because of me…and I just want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always take care of you.”

He frowned at her and quirked his head, regarding her with all his attention. “Do you expect that I’m going away somewhere? I am the Devil, spawn. I assure you, I rarely feel ill. There’s nothing that awful that could befall me. I can’t die after all, and I rule Hell. It’s unpleasant but it’s far easier on me than souls in the rooms and hell loops, I promise you that.”

She started crying harder. Her lap shook so hard that Beelzebub stirred, took one look at him, and screeching, ran to hide under his cage. That was not the ego boost Lucifer needed this morning. At all. “What if you do go away?”

“I promise you, until you’re safe and in the Silver City because you were over a hundred here first, I won’t go home.”

“No, I mean…it was scary yesterday, Luci, alright? I wasn’t scared of you. I could never be that.”

He stilled and reminded himself to breathe. Trixie wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t Amenadiel. She wasn’t the Host either. She wouldn’t throw him away, not when everyone else always had. She couldn’t.

Could she?

“Oh, because I blacked out a bit and scratched my idiot twin.” He tried to joke and for the millionth time, Lucifer wished he were himself again, that he could offer her a smile debonair enough to ease her worries and not the yellowed, rictus grin of a monster. “I thought you hated Mikey?”

“I don’t, um, exactly. I just…you lost time.”

He nodded. “I did.”  
  


“I was really scared you were gonna hurt Michael badly, and it was because of me, you know? He didn’t mean to, but he scratched me and you went total King Kong on him. I…Luci, I’m okay.”

He reached up with his free hand and stroked her hair, careful to keep his claws from tangling in it. “I know that now. I…truly I apologize for my behavior. It was abhorrent and beneath me. I would never mean to injure someone who was only there to help train you. I just…I shall try harder not to lose myself like that.”

But it had happened before. The remains of Esmée’s coven could attest to that or could have if they weren’t shredded into mincemeat. He’d wanted as much to ruin Mrs. Murchison too. Not kill the old sorority house mom, but do badly enough to ruin her mind for daring to bully the urchin.

Because she was a miracle, and miracles had to be protected. Any creature or human dumb enough to hurt a miracle wasn’t his concern, only _her_ continued safety was.

It was insane and illogical, and he’d never been a killer until Cain, but this was a truth he could feel more and more, not just in his mind and heart but in his bones too. No one could hurt the miracle---neither his ward nor the woman he loved, the one who had sent him away---and that was that.

Lucifer knew that was far from rational, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could fight the truth of it either.

It made everything simpler.

“I don’t want you to ever do anything like that again. I mean, okay, totally sweep out a vamp nest. They sucked.”

“Agreed.”

“But don’t hurt Michael. He’s your twin, and he really didn’t mean it.”

“I wouldn’t have on purpose…you were bleeding and it gets foggy after that,” he admitted. “Beatrice, I shall never leave you, and I will never send you away. We’ve come to that accord long ago.”

“I know.”

He sighed and leaning down a bit, kissed her forehead. “However,” he started after he’d sat tall again. “I hold no such expectations for you, however. If my problems…if _Tenebrae_ becomes too much, I don’t expect you to stay.”

Lucifer was confused by her throwing herself against him. She shook in his arms, and he couldn’t suss it all out. She had been afraid of him. He’d _seen_ it. But that didn’t match her crying in his arms as if she were seven still and expected him to chase the boogeyman away. Sight hard to do that if you were the thing all other monsters, boogeyman included, feared.

Startled, he held her close and rocked her, even as he hummed something as best he could for her. No great shakes, that, but a few bars of “Let It Be” to help ease her troubles. “Child, you have to tell me what’s wrong. I’m going to think another vampire is after you if you don’t.”

“No, I…it’s just that it was a dumb dream.”

“No, clearly it was anything but if you’re this upset. Beatrice, you need to tell me.”

“I was just scared.”

He hated to ask the next part, but he needed to know. If she was scared _of_ him, he needed to hear it, so he’d have the courage to get Maze and Taka to get her to see reason, to understand finally that the club and the Devil were no good for her. “Of me?”

She shoved herself off his chest and glared at him. He almost chuckled in his relief and shock at her expression. That look he knew well. That was the kitten mad at the lion, the one who challenged everything no matter how overwhelming the odds. For now, it was endearing. Less so when she picked fights with warlocks.

“Never, you moron. I’d never be scared of you!”

He arched a scarred eyebrow ridge and glanced toward the telly. “Then that’s not a coincidence?”

“I…” she reached out and wrapped both her hands around one of his. They were so small compared to just one that she barely covered anything of note. “I know it’s hard for you, that need you have to protect me, what your Dad shoved in you. I know you hate it more than anything, even the wings.”

“I do.”

“I just…I worry after the fight with Michael…I worry that you might let the instinct take over more? I dunno what I’m saying.”

“I’d never hurt you, not ever, child. If she were here, I’d never dream of hurting your mother, either.” Of course, the crux of the problem was that they both knew he hadn’t a choice in that matter.

She squeezed his hand. “I know, but I just…if I’m making you sicker, you know? If being near me makes it harder for you to think, then you can ask me to go. I’d hate it. I’d hate it a million freaking times over because you’re my best friend and everyone else always leaves, but Luci, if being near a miracle is hurting you, you have to tell me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I…the instincts are getting worse, aren’t they?”

He closed his eyes and wanted to be anywhere else. He’d felt this bad a few times in his immortal life and one had definitely been in the loft with Chloe staring at him and not quite processing anything, going on and on about “it’s all true.” Another was having the Detective storm Lux and tell him to go back to Hell for even daring to be near her or her daughter again. She hadn’t believed him that he’d been trying to save them both from Cain’s last acolytes.

Why bloody would she after she’d found out about the real him in the worst way possible?

“Urchin, I don’t know.”

“You don’t lie.”

“I don’t know!” he said, opening his eyes again and exhaling enough to blow her hair up in the breeze. “The instincts have been screaming at me from the moment Cain and his men shot at your mother. After it was all over, and I was here, they never quieted, just changed, became a cacophony of voices telling me how awful I was, what a monster I am.” He held up a scarred hand with its razor talons and shuddered. “How could I even say they were wrong? The instincts for so very long were focused as hate that burned through my chest, that made me loathe my Father, yes, but made me hate myself more still.”

“You shouldn’t!”

“I can’t stop, but with you here, perhaps it’s more like they shifted? I still hate myself, neither of us have any illusions about that. However, whilst that remains true, I also feel such a need to protect you, those same urges from the loft, yes, but it seemed easier because the burning in my heart, the hate seemed doused somewhat.” He laughed but there was no humor in it. “I felt like I could maybe…I can’t truly be happy like this, who could? But with you and Maze and her siblings…even with Mikey and Azrael sometimes, it feels like family, like some days I can almost wake up content again.”

“I know, but I think you’re awesome for what it’s worth. I know you can’t believe me or you won’t or both, but I knew you when you were Mom’s partner and, okay we’ll be real, like way extracurricular at Lux---”

He winked at her despite his mood. “That’s one way to put it, child.”

“Exactly, and I know you now. I can’t get it. I _can’t_. I know you hate what you are, even if I think I can help you free yourself eventually, but I can’t understand how painful it is to look like you do now, to be unable to pass as human. I can’t. But I don’t care. If you’re red and crispy or in a way too expensive suit and like normal or whatever, I don’t see a difference.”

“How could you not?”

She sighed and hugged him again. “You’re my friend. You saved my life when you were Lucifer Morningstar, police consultant and I’ll be super real here also a manwhore about L.A., and you save my life now when you’re the Devil but deep down just want to roast marshmallows and watch bad movies and buy me pets. I…you’re always just you with me.”

“Then we don’t have a problem.”

“We do if I’m making you _worse_. If miracles affect your mind, then I don’t know what to do. I would feel awful if it was my fault.”

“Beatrice, I really don’t get it,” he said, helping her to sit up so he could regard her fully, study the unfortunate pain in those dark brown eyes of hers. “I am missing something. You have to connect the dots for me since I can’t just _desire_ you to make you an open book.”

“We are so talking more about you doing that with Ted, I swear!”

“On topic, child.”

She nodded and swiped at her eyes. “Luci, with Michael you weren’t just mad. You were _feral_ , and you don’t even remember it.”

“I do not recall, no.” He was glad she didn’t know enough to ask him about Beelzebub because he never lied, and for all her talk, if she knew he’d come close to eating her pet raw…to tearing into it like a damn animal, she’d never understand him again. “Beatrice, do you really think so little of me after I hurt my twin?”

“No, but I’m scared for you. I’m terrified that you’re sick and that being near me and too close to a miracle is making it worse, all those instincts—that stupid leash your dad shoved in you—and I can’t be here if I’m going to poison you. I…you’re wrong. You’re not the poison at all. _I_ am.”

“And you got this rot because of a dream.”

“It felt real, Lucifer. Please don’t lie. Is being near me making the instincts worse?”

He shook his head and wrapped her up not just in a hug but in his left wing too. Some of his apprehension eased as she stroked it. “I don’t hate myself as much with you here. All the burning and pain beneath my chest is gone for the first time in a long time. I feel better most of the time, I do, and I’m so bloody selfish because I know you should go, but my life has been so much better with you in it. It has brought me back parts of my family and then some. I just…you aren’t hurting me as far as I know.”

She was quiet in his arms but at least no longer shook. “If you feel like you’re going fuzzy though because of me, if you feel you’re…forgive me.”

“Nothing to ask for forgiveness about, urchin,” he said, kissing the crown of her head.

“Batman would not do that for Robin!”

“Well, would he for Batgirl? You’re the Barbara Gordon to my madness, the smart one, Beatrice. I just…I’ve no quarrel with you and never have.”

She sniffled. “I just…if you think you’re going crazy and it’s, uh, miracle-based, you have to tell me. I won’t let you become a monster because of me. I’m a _leash_ , Lucifer. You father made me to the perfect specifications to muzzle you, and I’m really scared that means even more than we thought. I don’t want to hurt you. I’d _never_ want that.”

He sighed and rocked her, singing a bit more of the Beatles for her, rumbling and garbled as his voice currently was. After a bit of “Hey Jude,” he stopped long enough to talk again. “Child, you couldn’t hurt me in a million years. I…I understand how you feel. After the fight last night, I wanted to leave town alone.”

She shook a little. “And go to Hell forever.”

“No, I wouldn’t give Dad the satisfaction, even now. I just thought I needed to be away from you and Michael and Mazikeen. To be somewhere I can’t lash out and harm others if the instincts strike, but I talked to a friend and I don’t think that makes any logical sense.”

“I don’t want to go either.”

He nodded and pushed her gently off him. Standing, he went to his bar and grabbed a rag so that when he returned to the couch, he could dry her cheeks. “Then we stay. Father did a lot to both of us. He bound us to each other, and that’s true. And, yes, Beatrice, I am truly sorry as is my idiot git of a twin that you are, in your own way, made to order by God. That isn’t fair to you, as it is not fair to the Detective. However, if we’re supposed to stay together, then my friend pointed out that maybe that’s the best strength we have.”

She blinked and rubbed at her eyes. “Huh?”

“Here, we’ve a stronghold with the Lilim as well as my siblings offering to help. We have resources you don’t quite understand yet but you will after dinner tonight.”

“Alright?” she said. “Wait, is another angel around?”

“Hardly,” he said.

“One day, you do have to tell me what happened with Amenadiel and Miss Linda.”

His eyes flashed. He could only deal with so many hard truths at a time. “But today is not that day. I…if Father designed us as a matching set, after a fashion, then that’s our curse to bear, but it is also part of the plan. I say we play to it. I was miserable here alone before you came, and you kept getting almost eaten by the undead before me. I think we stick together, and we’ll figure the rest out.”

  
She swiped at her eyes again. “Fine but if I ever hurt you---”

“Same, child. But until then, we’re a team.”

“I’ll never let you get hurt, Lucifer.”

He sighed, and he wished heartily that she was actually related to him, that he’d had one sibling who’d stuck with him the way the urchin wanted to. But that wouldn’t have worked anyway. She’d have Fallen with him, so it was best that wasn’t true. But he’d rarely had a feeling that family cared for him, and it was an honor that she wanted to protect him like this. However, he was far older than she, truly timeless, and he couldn’t let her take those risks, couldn’t let her break herself for him.

If it came to it, he’d save her first, even from her own youthful idiocy and bravado.

“I’m honored you feel that way, spawn. I can offer you the same vow, but you know I have to uphold it because I’m bound to the miracles. It won’t carry the same weight.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Because?”

“I’m like when you kept growing back your feathery wings. I’m what ties you to your dad. I…you said out by the pier that even a pretty leash was still a leash. I might be a lot of good things for you---I hope I am---but I’m also like a trap, and I just…I promise, Luci, if things got real bad, I’d stay.”

His eyes flashed again, and he took one of her small, tiny hands in his own. “Child, you know how I feel about vows and my word, don’t you?”  
  


“Duh, everyone knows that the Devil never welches on a deal. It’s pretty famous.”

“Yes, and for good reason. I need you to understand that when people give me their word, I expect them to always keep it. It’s both a point of honor and, honestly, amongst Celestials and Infernals both a necessity. We take our vows seriously.”

She frowned at him and furrowed her brow. “I think I get it.”

“I’m solemn, and there’s something I need you to offer me that you won’t like, but I need you to swear it.”

“Well why would I promise you something that I don’t want to give?”

He squeezed her hand and then drew the tip of one, large claw lightly over her nose, only stopping to boop it at the end as if she were still the child he’d known. “Because I need you to understand how important this is for me.”

“Okay?” she said, her voice hesitant.

“If my situation, such as it is, were to decline…if I ever were nothing more but the Beast of Revelation, and some such rot of ‘And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone…and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever,’ then that’s my lot….then it’s what Father planned and tricked me into millennia before you were born. Don’t fail to live life because of me, child. Please,” he said, stroking her cheek. “You deserve a human life, Beatrice, and if you are afraid for me or caring for me like some bloody livestock, you can’t. I forbid it.”

“But Luci!”

He dropped his hand and regarded her solemnly. “If anything truly as bad as you fear comes to pass, then my subjects shall care for me. Mazikeen has watched my back since before there was a human race. I promise you I shall protect you with all that I am, and that I will work hard to help you find your power and my cure, but in return, you promise to let me go if we fail.”

“Everyone else does that though.”

He offered her a small smile. “Beatrice, they left to spite me or because they were scared of me. I know now that you never would. I am asking you to let me go and have a wonderful, painfully boring, but utterly suburban human life. I want you to grow very old and have many children and grandchildren and all that I can never have, that the Lilim were never built for. It’s who you are.”

“I’m loyal!”  
  


“I ask you not to be should the worst come. Can you promise me that?”

“I…”  
  


“It’s what I desire more than anything, child. I want you to have a human life too, and if I’m…If I should slip and become _feral_ ,” he spit that last word out with disgust and suddenly his jokes about the urchin about an impromptu veterinary were no longer funny. “You need to know that the only thing that I’d ever want is for you to be happy and loved. My idiot twin and my Lilim can help me. You…” he sighed and shook his head. “You have always deserved better than the likes of _Tenebrae_ anyway. So, Beatrice Prudence Espinoza, promise me.”

“I…”

He let his eyes flash, even though he knew bloody well it didn’t scare her. “Please, for me.”

She nodded even as tears silently streamed down her cheeks. “I promise, Luci, that even if we’re totally gonna fix you and this is stupid and it’s not gonna ever happen but if you get really sick and can’t…”

“If I’m feral.”

“Yes, if you go feral, I promise to let Maze and Michael take care of you.”

“And live a human life.”

“Luci---”

“Say the full thing. Who do you think invented loopholes, urchin?”

“I…fine, I Beatrice Prudence--- _worst middle name ever_ \---Espinoza promise that I will let Mazikeen of the Lilim and Michael (Sword of God, Voice of the Presence, and God’s dumbest angel) care for you and I’ll go have a boring human life.”

“Close enough and you don’t have to mock the titles.”

“So you’re saying Mikey isn’t the dumbest angel?”

“Alas, I have many many siblings and you’ve yet to meet Castiel, angel of Thursdays and off-key singing.” He relaxed a bit, because he _would_ tell Maze and Michael both about this vow, and if he were left nothing but a ravening Beast, then she would be honor bound to keep it. Both heaven and hell would see to it, and his urchin could be happy and safe.

That was all that mattered, truly.

“Good, child, now that all that nasty business is out of the way, you get dressed and I’ll make brekkie. Then you have class and you need to go.” He stretched out his right wing with its gaping hole. “I’d like to get this fixed, Beatrice.”

She blushed sheepishly at that. “Sorry?”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, spawn. Humans rarely get one over on the Devil. I’m quite proud of your sparring skills. Now,” he said clapping. “No more tears, get showered up, and I’ll have tortillas for you in no time. How would chanterelles be?”

“Gesundheit?”

“It’s a mushroom, Philistine. Now get dressed. Besides,” he added. “We won’t find your miracle power sitting on our backsides, will we?”

“I…what if I already found it?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie ends up having her discipline hearing with Omega Chi moved up to Friday and things are going as well as you'd expect...

Trixie's morning started bad, and it got worse.

She barely slept after her nightmare anyway, and after the week she'd had, she'd wanted more than just five hours of sleep and then up by six a.m. to stare at the darkness before sunrise. And a useless Disney movie that at least had made background noise but hadn't really distracted her. Trixie didn't feel any better making a deal with Lucifer. She'd promised, and she understood she was honor bound to keep it. Angels and Lilim and especially the Devil were beings of their word. She wanted to be the same. At least where oaths and vows were concerned. But she hated that she'd had to make such a promise. If things were like she saw...if Lucifer got _that bad_ , then Trixie wanted to be there for him. She was the reigning miracle. Kind of. It was her family that had caused all of this mess. She just wanted to help Lucifer.

But he'd made her promise to have a life, like being a normal human was so great.

And she knew he'd tell Maze and also Michael next time they could safely be in the same room together.

Trixie _loathed_ it. Because she was pretty damn sure her power had finally come, and she'd seen the future. A bleak one where what little was left of her best friend was generous with her---Lucifer would always protect her, whether he wanted to or not---but also so trapped. So limited. And Trixie had no idea how much time they had left to fix it, to try and prevent a future that just couldn't come to pass.

Not that Lucifer believed her.

She hadn't told him over breakfast exactly what she'd seen. It would crush him. Instead, she'd made up an excuse about realizing her latest Spanish quiz had contained every question exactly in order as a dream she'd had the night before. Lucifer had listened thoughtfully and suggested that she might be wrong, that one dream and a feeling of deja vu didn't necessarily denote her miracle ability. She wished to his dad that it didn't, but the nightmare she'd suffered through _felt_ so real. She didn't know how to save him or protect him or even how long she could hide what she'd seen from Luci.

And that was how her day started. By eight a.m. she was headed uptown to campus, both so Lucifer's right wing could heal up and so that she could work on a term paper that she just...too much was falling to the side and if her family or, oddly enough, the crew at _Tenebrae_ found out how her grades were slipping, they'd be upset with her. Trixie was half passed out by eleven a.m. in the school library, not getting past the literary analysis of Marquez's _Love in the Time of Cholera_ when her phone buzzed.

She frowned at the message from Annie:

_The discipline board got moved up to tonight. We're going over the plans for the float for Mardi Gras first then, well, after general meeting, then we assess your case. Can you make it now instead of Sat?_

Sure, great, Trixie would be happy to go through all that the same way that she'd love to get her fingernails peeled off one by one or be back in Esmee's clutches. But if she was going to be ejected from Omega Chi, then it was going to happen either way, and she had bigger fish to fry now. Sighing, she texted Annie back:

_Sure whatever works. Also, thanks for the heads up, I need to get my design for the float finished. I mean...maybe you can still choose it even..._

Annie's answer was quick and Trixie took comfort in it: 

_I'm not going to let this happen. Lettie either. BTW - she's going to be at the house for dinner before everything. She said you can meet her as **her** guest pre-chapter stuff. If Murchison is mean, well, **I'll** handle it._

Trixie sighed and figured this was ending any type of luck she'd had going for her. Not that since Lucifer had gone postal on Michael, she'd had any luck at all. However, now she had to face the music, and it sucked. She hadn't been the one to just apparate into the sorority house. Yes, technically, Michael was a strange man----super strange---in their bathroom. But on the other hand, he was also God's dumbest angel and only had a mind for heavenly business. At best, he was like an annoying brother by proxy for her. It wasn't anything wrong or weird.

Ugh shoot her no.

But it looked _terrible_ , and she knew how badly Murchison was gunning for her. Hell, she knew how badly _Veronica Chang_ wanted her gone too. It was just...as much as Annie and (Trixie still hoped) Lettie wanted her to stay, she'd still been caught red-handed with a half naked older (like 14 billion years) older guy after hours. It was bad.

She shook her head, and then typed a quick message confirming everything with Annie. Then, she texted Maze that she'd have to do family dinner or, well, dinner between her, Maze, Luci, Michael and whoever was Luci's mystery guest tomorrow instead. Just to have her bases extra covered, she shot the angel who was the source of all her problems a quick prayer as well.

_Dear Michael, I can't tonight. My sorority trial changed to today. Maze is making new plans for tomorrow though for dinner. I...it's probably better anyway, and I hope it gives you more time to heal. I...Luci's really sorry; I can tell_.

Shaking her head and turning back to the same paragraph she'd read a dozen times with no retention today and tried to focus on her paper. And not on the fact that she was trying and failing to find a balance between sorority sister, college student, and miracle serving as Satan's current leash. 

Fuck.

If she ever met Lucifer and Michael's dad, Trixie really didn't care. She was going to at least _try_ to slug him. The jerk deserved it. Damn it. She was more than a leash; she had to be. And she would find a way to actually help Luci if it killed her.

**

It was almost four when she finally escaped from the library and started walking across the campus sprawl toward the Omega Chi house. The meeting was at six and her dinner with Lettie at five, but after hours trapped in the stacks, Trixie needed some sunshine and fresh air first. What she did not need was to find Michael sitting on the edge of the marble fountain in the center of campus and trying (yet failing) to look casual as he clearly waited for her.

She wanted to yell at him at first, to explain that her prayer had been an update and not an invitation to come by. The bumbling idiot had cost her enough already. But the venom and frustration welling up in her died the moment he turned, and she spied the right side of his face. It was packed well with gauze in two places: his forehead and to his eyebrow and then down the length of his cheek to his chin. He'd flinched well enough last minute to avoid being blinded in one eye by Lucifer's claws.

Bile roiled in her gut, and Trixie almost barfed thinking about the fight from yesterday---shit was it _just_ then----and the anger drained out of her. Besides, she wasn't even angry at Michael. The sorority stuff hurt; it did. But honestly, since January, she'd had less and less time for it anyway. No. If anything Trixie was pissed at God who wasn't even around and herself. Lucifer might have been in denial about him nose-diving into instinctive behaviors around her, but she had to be the reason things were getting worse. Her best friend claimed he felt better than he had in a decade, but she was a miracle and this whole stupid trap...his dad had laid out a Hell (literally) of a poison for him, and Trixie just wished she knew for sure if she was hurting him.

It would be the last thing on earth she'd want.

Michael frowned at her and settled his glasses back up on his nose. They were sliding a bit off the gauze on his right cheekbone, which made them only slightly more crooked than normal. ''Are you alright, Miracle?''

She looked over her shoulder and was at least relieved no one was near enough to hear Michael. It was weird enough to have a dude who looked both like he'd lost a bar fight and was old enough to be her father waiting for her. She really didn't need to let the miracle cat out of the bag, even though people would probably just assumed Michael was insane. Or possibly a cult leader. Maybe both.

Trixie sighed and shook her head. ''I'm meeting Lettie in like thirty minutes, and I'm trying to catch my breath. You don't exactly de-stress me, Mikey.''

He nodded and didn't take the bait with his nickname. ''You sounded very distraught with your brief prayer this morning. Now that family dinner's been moved and I was able to get business in Israel done faster than expected...I have space between sibling visits. May we talk?''

''We are talking.''

He rolled his eyes. ''Please sit for a moment, Trixie. I check in with all the Host. I'm quite capable of checking in with you.''

''I think checking in with me is how I got screwed in the first place out of my housing,'' she said, but even then Trixie did as he asked. With Luci, she _couldn't_ tell him what she'd seen. It would gut him. With Maze, her friend wouldn't believe it, would be too far into denial to help her. But Michael knew more about miracles than anyone else on any plane. He might be able to help her with her finally manifested power. And he'd want to know what was possibly coming for Lucifer too. ''I think my power finally happened.''

He quirked his head at her and today, of all days, the resemblance to Lucifer (a poorly dressed one but still) was tearing into her heart harder than usual. ''That's a good thing, isn't it? You've been searching for weeks, and now you finally know.'' He wrinkled his brow at her. ''Then why do you look as if someone has harmed Beelzebub? Miracle, you're not a good actress, and I've rarely seen you so sad.''

And he was watching her with the kind brown eyes that Lucifer should have had, and she couldn't keep it up any longer. Tears ran down her cheeks, and Trixie swiped angrily at them. Michael leaned closer to her and set a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. ''I can't.''

''Tell me what you do? Constantine said it was _Will_ , didn't he? So I'm curious to see how that's finally manifested.'' He frowned again. ''I figured you'd be able to do something finally with your drawing skills.''

She forced her tears away and hated herself still for being weak, for having her voice break even as she spoke with him. ''It's not _Will_. That stupid warlock was wrong. Not a big shock considering how like hung over he was then.''

''Alright, is it a painful power? Do you shift into something else?''

She blinked at him. ''Wait, that was on the table?''

''Well, there may have been a few shapeshifters amongst Father's miracles.''

Trixie gaped at him. That definitely would have been good to know, even if those odds were rare. Not that being a physical badass like a werewolf or bear or something wouldn't have an upside. See vampires try and eat her then. ''Luci said werewolves didn't exist.''

''Real ones don't, but Father is sometimes...we haven't had a miracle who can shift forms since the Middle Ages. Those odds are low. So, what do you do?''

Trixie pushed the image of her growing fur all over and tried to focus on the actual crises in her life; there were tons of them after all. ''I can see the future.''

''But I thought you'd tried various forms of _Sight_ and clairvoyance before?'' Michael slipped his glasses off and rubbed the lenses clean against the corner of his turtle neck. ''Besides, _Will_ and _Sight_ could not be more different skills. Constantine said---''

''He was wrong. Michael, you have no idea how wrong he was,'' she said, her voice breaking again even as she watched the archangel slip the glasses over his nose. ''I had a dream last night, and it was like I was living the future. I had to be maybe ten or twelve years from now. I was a doctor and had my own place. And not to sound all _Wizard of Oz,_ but you were there and Luci was there too.'' She set her head in her hands and sniffled. ''It was so bad.''

''Did Lucifer hurt you in the vision?'' Michael said, his tone measured, and Trixie could understand for the first time why his and Lucifer's siblings deferred to Michael. He had an authority about him, this sense that if you let him, he could protect you. It wasn't really true, and Trixie didn't think anyone alone could help her save Lucifer. If they had a shot, it would be her and him and the Lilim all working with Lucifer and against the clock. But it did feel safe for just a moment, and her crying stopped. ''Miracle, I need to know if he's going to become more dangerous.''

She shook her head and looked up at him. ''He'd never be a danger to me. Luci wasn't then even. He really can't hurt miracles; he never would. Honestly, he didn't hurt you either. He was, uh, disgruntled but controllable.''

Michael nodded. ''Just take your time getting it all out. What do you mean 'controllable?''

She couldn't help it anymore. Trixie turned and shocked Michael, she was sure from the way he jumped, by burying her face in his chest. ''It's so bad, Michael. There has to be a way to stop futures, right?''

''Yes, they are patterns and possibilities that become more cemented as time passes, but something that far down the line has a chance to be tweaked. Gabriel is gifted with long term patterns, but I can't...we'll have to muddle through on our own. I don't want him to know about you.''

''Because no one else knows about miracles but Amenadiel and Azrael as far as angels go?''

''Yes, and because you're unique, Trixie Espinoza,'' he said, pulling back and offering her an awkward smile. ''You are the only second generation miracle, the only one as potent as you are, and I do not know how Gabriel will take that.''

''Translation: he might kill me.''

''Angels cannot. We all know what happens now if we do.''

Trixie nodded. ''Maybe, but you're scared he'd find a way to lock me up or have something else come for me and Mom, right?''

Michael frowned. ''I shouldn't have so little faith in my brother, whose power almost rivals that of the Demiurge, but I just don't know what will happen to you if Gabe knew of your existence. But, yes, patterns can be altered. It's difficult but possible. I...what was so bad about Samael? He's already as he is.'''

''He was so feral,'' she admitted, the words bitter on her tongue. '''He wasn't...it was like he was a guard dog for me or maybe about as smart as a preschooler. I think most of what he understood still about our relationship was instinct, Michael. I had to leave him at home during the day to watch Disney movies and curl up in a blanket.'' She sighed. ''He still hated you. I mean, he didn't hurt you, but I think the whole cutting my hip---it's gonna scar by the way---made him super wary of you forever.''

Michael considered that. ''So what happened last night is a prelude. Sam's mind----''

She hiccupped and buried her head in her hands again. ''He's not going to stay like he is. I mean, the whole snarky still British thing he's got going on? It's not going to stay. I mean, he was like talking with maybe a four year old at best.'' Trixie looked back up at Michael, and it stung all over again to see a version of the Lucifer she'd known in L.A. staring back at her. ''We have to save him.''

He reached out and set a hand on her shoulder. ''I'll start research immediately. I...family meetings are about you.''

She smirked a little at such an odd thing to hear from Michael. ''So you and me and Maze and Taka and Lucifer are all family now?''

Michael sat up straighter, and that natural angelic hauteur was back. ''I am an angel of the Lord. I am an archangel in point of fact and the Demiurge besides. My power is almost unfathomable. Azrael is my sister and once, Samael was my equal yet opposite number. I am not family with Lilim.''

''But we're a team, and we all want the same thing. Tomorrow for dinner, I know you and Luci have some mystery guest coming and if Rae Rae can come all depends on what type of accident might have happened out there in the big bad world or which mudslide or who knows what, but Maze will come at least too. I...Luci's like me. He straddles a lot of worlds now. Maze is his family and I am too. He has a human, mostly, and a demon protecting him. He has angels as brothers and sisters. We need all of us to figure this out, so none of that I'm better than demons cause I'm an angel bullshit. You're good at making tons of mistakes on your own, Mikey.''

He narrowed his eyes at her. ''Perhaps, but the demon Mazikeen is a good idea; I can admit that. She knows him well and if Sammy becomes feral one day, only a team of Lilim might be able to contain him.''

''It wasn't jail, exactly. It was just a few rooms in my apartment where he...it was more like daycare,'' she admitted and the horror on Michael's face was obvious. 

''Samael made the universe with me. He was a pain and a fool and started a Rebellion, but afterwards he still had more than enough power and cunning to be a King of his new domain. He was a good detective too even in L.A.''

She laughed, and it came out as a small croak. ''Mom is a great fucking detective. Lucifer is...the 'desire' mojo helps a lot with that,'' she admitted. '''Well in the future, he's barely coherent. I just...I can't let this happen to him. You can help me, right?''

''Yes, and tomorrow we will stick to you and how best to work on training up your _Sight_. It's important that we have every tool at our disposal to help Samael escape his fate, and now your visions might be the best resource we have.''' He stood then but seemed to think better of something and reached out toward her injured hip. Michael's hands grazed her side there, and she stilled. It was a shock, but his touch was at least gentle. With angels, you never knew if they'd just bowl you over. Most were terrible at human things. ''Are you alright physically? I never meant to harm you, Miracle.''

She quirked her head at him and frowned. ''It's a scratch so, okay, it's gonna give me a scar, but the Lilim are going to be _so_ jealous!'' She stood and checked her phone. She'd have to sprint across the rest of campus to Greek Row to get to Lettie in time. ''I'll live, Mikey. You're not that tough.''

''One day, Miracle, you'll respect the Demiurge.''

She shrugged and winked at him. ''Meh, probably not. One half the Demiurge never learned how to like check before he just pops in to places unannounced. The other half has a blood feud going on with a flying squirrel _and_ frets over giving me the best makeup tips.''

''We've been more impressive, I admit,'' Michael said, offering her a small grin. ''You are not Lilim. You need to remember that.''

''I'm a little bit of everything. I am human but I have powers now because without your Dad interfering, I wouldn't exist. My best friend is the Devil and Maze is basically like a sister to me and Taka too by now. You and Rae Rae are growing on me. I just...it's like I told Luci. I only _look_ normal, but demons and angels are both my friends. So I think a bit like all of you.''

''One day, you'll understand what it is to be divinely inspired even finitely so. You are better than demons.''

''Better than Lucifer now?''

''Maybe, but I'm glad that the scar isn't painful. I didn't mean---''

She reached out and squeezed his hand. ''I know. Like I said, I got street cred from it, so that's pretty bad ass. I just...we have to save him.''

Michael nodded. ''Then we'll figure out if your theory is right and if somehow Samael is doing this to himself and not under Father's direct punishment. We work harder at getting him to change back. If he can do his eyes or an arm, we have to be able to get more from him.''

''Exactly!'' She straightened out her backpack and craned her neck to the expanse of the quad. ''I gotta go. I'll see you for dinner tomorrow night. Uh, you can do spicy, right? Maze is in charge of getting the food and she loves it all very New Orleans style and as hot as Creole gets. It's not quite as hot as when my abuela makes her specialties but you can handle that, right, angel?''

''Miracle, I can handle almost anything.'' He frowned at her, and despite feeling more upbeat with the Sword of God on her side, Trixie felt a heavy weight again settle in her chest. ''Trixie?''

''Yes. I'm gonna be late and I have got to explain to Lettie like so much. Anyway, what is it?'' She picked up her phone and held it up for him so he could see the time. ''Seriously, minutes are flying by here!''

''If for some reason even with all our collective strength and your new powers...if we cannot stop Samael's fate, well, let Mazikeen and I care for him. I know Sam and he'd---''

She glared at him. ''Your twin beat you to it. I promised him I'd move on if I couldn't help him, but I don't want that. I really fucking don't. I'm _not_ going to let my dream happen.''

''I hope we can stop this, truly, but Trixie, you can't live your life by shoving everything you are and want aside for your friends' sakes.''

''He's family. I'd do anything for him or for Maze, just like I would for mom and dad or my abuelos. Do you understand doing _anything_ for family?''

Michael shook his head and put his hands in his blazer pockets. ''I cannot. I have done as much as I can for my siblings now, and I will do all I can for Sammy now, but there are lines that I won't cross.''

''Oh, I know.''

''And there are things you're not destined for. Trixie, being Sam's keeper isn't your fate. I'm sure of it.''

She shook her head and regarded him angrily. It was a struggle not to shout at him, and she only managed not to because the rest of the campus would overhear at that volume and assume she was Looney Tunes. Maybe she was. ''Maybe that's the place you're wrong, Mikey. We both know I'm a leash, one your dad made to order. But I am so scared that I'm worse, that Mom and me are the worst Trojan Horses ever. I just...maybe I was made to be his keeper because your dad didn't know what else to do with him and all that power, the devil side and the archangel side.'' Trixie forced herself not to tear up; she was already going to look like a mess at dinner with Lettie. ''Do you have any idea what it's like to know you exist because God needed a fucking muzzle?''

''I know what it's like to exist because, in part, Father needed a tool. But you're more than Samael's guardian, especially when if the worst happens, he has endless Lilim for that task.''

''Then,'' she said, turning back toward the far end of the quad. ''We're not going to let that happen. I don't care what he wants or you want or even your dad. If we can't save him...I'll take care of him. It's my debt, Michael, and I earned it.''

''If Father's machinations resulted in Sammy feeling he had to kill Cain and then doing it, then you don't owe him that. I...just focus on the tribunal or the hearing or whatever you call it. We have a decade you said. We can figure something out, but I...don't chain yourself to a miserable sentence too, Miracle.''

She stopped one last time and eyed him. ''Why do you even care? Is this some thing where at least half the Demiurge has to have the final say?'''

Michael shook his head and stepped closer, and then he set his hand on her injured hip. ''No, nothing like that. It's because I can see the costs this is having already on your life and your body and everything, and I'm sick of miracles suffering. You're exasperating,'' he said, removing his hand again. ''But you're brave and good-hearted and strong, especially for a human. You deserve a real life, and if both Samael and I agree on that point, you know it must be true.''

''Well, maybe I never got a choice in any of this anyway because your dad decided to make my mom and me by proxy and we're just play things, right?''

Michael doubled over laughing. ''Oh Miracle, we don't know each other well yet, but I am sure of one thing: any being as stubborn as you, for good or for ill, won't be manipulated by anyone. Perhaps not even Father.''

''Yeah, and I'm sure that's what Luci thought about himself and look what your dad is doing to him even from who knows where in the multiverse. Yes, Mikey, I'm a damn muzzle, but I'm going to figure out how to be anything _but_ that if it's the last thing I do.''

He nodded solemnly at her, even if he was still a bit out of breath from laughing. ''I hope that you do. Sam's fate may depend on it.''


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie finally faces the wrath of the sorority trial, and her power makes itself known.

**Chapter Eighteen**

It was weird going back to the sorority house.

In truth, it hadn’t even been a week since Michael had fucked her life up. Okay, so her life had kind of been fucked up since before she was born. Maybe just a long line of FUBAR’ed stuff had happened since Amenadiel blessed her grandma. However, it had been accelerating like a freight train ever since Esmée’s underlings had gotten their fangs in her. Michael landing her on probation---at best---with Omega Chi was just par for the course.

Still, it was with a heavy heart that she opened the door to her former home and walked inside. The dining hall wasn’t busy considering that there was a meeting in less than an hour at the house, but she was glad about that. Since it was Friday, maybe everyone was out and about and just anywhere else. Lettie wasn’t down yet, so Trixie took a moment to catch her breath as she settled into a table near the back of the dining hall. She hoped that at least since no one else would be looking for her, that just maybe she’d blend into the background.

Trixie wasn’t thinking that clearly from zero sleep and all her stress with the twins, and who would have thought that both the Devil and the Sword of God would agree on one thing---exactly how she should live her life. Guh. As if either knew her very well. Okay, so Luci totally did, but he was just being so overbearing. Trixie never should have given him her word because he’d expect her to keep it. And she’d be honor bound to do so. However, he’d asked and it was clearly the one thing he truly _desired_.

Okay, so if he got sicker, she’d go off and get a minivan, some kids, and a picket fence or whatever it was normal people did. She wasn’t completely sure what that was since she’d been training with blades with a demon since she was eight.

Yeah, right.

All her damn promise really meant was that now she had to use her apparent visions to circumvent the future, then, so that her vow wouldn’t matter anymore.

Trixie was deep in her thoughts and about to slip out her phone to text Lettie to remind her they had dinner plans when someone coughed behind her. She stilled and looked over her shoulder and could _not_ suppress a groan when she found Mackenzie, one of Veronica Chang’s besties, lurking.

“Can I help you?”

The other girl rolled her eyes and adjusted her Prada bag over her shoulder. Yeah, that Trixie could (now) recognize. From her best friend and basically sister, Maze, she knew how to slice an Achilles tendon in record time. From her well step-devil, she knew last season’s designer stuff when she saw it. Because of course Lucifer could _still_ tell that at fifty feet and would sometimes joke about it with her when they went down to _Tenebrae’s_ bar for happy hour. Because, yes, the Devil was part fearsome beast, part damned archangel, but also just really catty. And people watching with him got interesting. And a bit mean.

Okay, a lot mean.

Mackenzie shrugged. “You’re not supposed to be here. The meeting’s not for an hour, and you don’t live here anymore.”

Trixie swallowed but sat up straighter. “Yeah, true, but I’m _Lettie’s_ guest and I have to be at the meeting. I mean, my design for the float this year remains under consideration, and I’m still a member.”

“Not if you get expelled from the chapter…I mean, I heard the rumor they might even have a representative from Nationals here too.”

Trixie blinked, taken off guard. Neither Annie nor Lettie had mentioned that. Then again, maybe Mrs. Murchison, that old bitch, had gone behind Annie’s back and arranged for such a thing.

“What?”

Mackenzie perked up instantly. “Oh, you didn’t know? That’s why I heard Mrs. Murchison had it moved up. The National rep---Virginia Chang---she couldn’t make it on Saturday since she had other things on her plate.”

“Wait? Are you kidding me? Veronica’s sister is running this kangaroo court?”

“Well, Murchison and Virginia, yeah. I mean Annie doesn’t know. This was something the house mother and Nationals clearly felt strongly about. And, you know, Annie’s your gran big so… _conflict of interest_.”

“What?”

“Yeah, your whole ‘family’ doesn’t know. They’d have been biased. So, Rhonda too is in the dark. But I mean, if you’re all that innocent, Espinoza, then it shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Trixie bit back. Well, technically things were looking up with Ted and maybe someday… But Michael? _Never_. “There’s an explanation for what happened.”

“All ears.”

“That’s for the meeting,” she floundered.

Mackenzie chuckled. “It’s fine, Espinoza. I mean, you’re toast, totally, but I have to admit you really surprised me. You even surprised Veronica. We thought you were a nun. You never seemed to give that much of a shit at mixers…I didn’t know you had a sugar daddy.”

Trixie groaned and set her head in her hands. “Trust me, that’s not what it is. Michael is a friend of mine, kind of. I mean, his twin brother is an old family friend, and I hang out at _Tenebrae_ because, uh, Luke owns it and like free drinks? It’s not more than that. I mean, it’s just not at all…I’d _never_.”

Mackenzie laughed again. “Riiight, so that’s why he’s shirtless in the communal bathroom at four a.m. Look, I’m serious, that’s pretty cool. Didn’t think you had it in you, but like I have eyeballs and I was there. I mean, what else could it be, Espinoza?”

_Well, you see, the archangel who literally fabricated all the matter in the universe is actually a complete moron so he doesn’t get you can’t just apparate into a sorority house any time you want. Plus, he had vampire ear on his shirt, so it really was best not to have viscera out and…_

God, ergh, no one would ever believe that.

“It’s not that. Family friend. It’s just…he snuck up on me.”

“On the third floor and with no key card, unless you snuck him one. Then, even more badass than I thought you were.”

“It isn’t your business.”

Mackenzie shrugged. “Well, I can’t bring my boo into the house so kind of unfair.”

“He’s not---”

“Hey, Mack, you’re done here,” Lettie interrupted, from behind them both. Trixie relaxed as she watched her Big stare down the annoying thorn in her side. “Did I stutter? We’ll see you at the meeting, till then, leave Trix alone.”

Mackenzie glared back at her. “I was just giving you mad props. I mean, he was really hot and---”

Lettie shook her head as she pulled out her chair with a shriek. “Go now.”

“Fine, whatever, dead girl walking,” Mackenzie snapped, trotting away and to the front of the dining hall.

Trixie offered her Big a grateful smile. “Thanks, I feel better. She was being so annoying. Also, did you _hear_ how this is a whole freaking set up? Veronica Chang’s older sister is gonna be the Naitonal’s rep, and I’m so dead.”

Lettie’s eyes widened, and she cursed under her breath. “Damn, I didn’t know. You have to believe me that neither Annie nor I did.”

Trixie nodded. “Oh, yeah, apparently our whole fam wasn’t told. Fair trial my ass.”

Lettie sighed. “Look, you have all the stress, and you haven’t slept at all. Annie and I aren’t gonna let them kick you out, promise. I’ll grab a couple slices of pizza and we can catch up before, you know---”

Trixie arched an eyebrow at her. “My impending trial of doom?”

“Maybe, just chill and trust me and Annie to have it.”

She waited as Lettie went off to get their food, her mind spinning. It should seem a way smaller worry to have to deal with Mrs. Murchison and the Changs’ overall fuckery when she had heaven, Hell, and everything in between on her shoulders. Still, the idea that fucking Veronica was gunning for her so hard pissed her off. Trixie didn’t even want to be social chair any longer. But she did want to stay with her sisters and, okay, maybe Luci had a point and doing something just human was important too.

Also Veronica really was a bitch. She shouldn’t get to win!s

So her thoughts kept circling each other when Lettie set the pizza and a generous slice of chocolate cake (and some things never changed) in front of her.

“If you just want to focus on the whole tribunal thing, we don’t have to…you don’t have to explain about whatever the heck is going on with you and _Tenebrae_.”

She shrugged and bit into her pizza with gusto. Trixie had finally made some progress on her paper research and was feeling awake now with the adrenaline from her confrontation with Mackenzie, so hunger was the next thing to deal with. She had half the slice scarfed down before she finally figured out what to say.

“I need to feel like you have my back.”

“I do,” Lettie replied with no hesitation at all.

Trixie sighed. “But you think I’m crazy for hanging out with the Devil, right?”

Lettie poked at her food but didn’t actually dig in. “I want to understand it. I can’t help but think that this is dangerous as Hell for you, Trix.”

“It’s a really long story.”

“We’ve got forty-five minutes.”

She nodded. “It’s super weird. I just…the real problem in all of this that I’m _not_ normal.”

Lettie frowned. “You seem pretty regular to me.”

“Okay, so basically back in L.A. like ten years ago when my parents met Lucifer…well, okay, he was pretty normal for him and ended up being my mom’s consultant on cases. The LAPD got stuff out of it cause, be real, with some of his powers, Lucifer was able to get confessions.”

“The cops knew?”

“No, and that’s kind of the problem and he was…different in L.A.,” she said. “Honestly, he wasn’t like he is now at _Tenebrae_ at all. Now though, everything’s a mess.”

“I don’t think I’m following you at all, Little.”

Trixie sighed. “Michael and Lucifer are supposed to be identical. And in L.A., Lucifer mostly just could be humanish. My parents didn’t know. No one did. I mean he said it all the time, Maze too, but they just seemed like crazy method actors. I mean, it’s _L.A._ ”

Lettie nodded. “Okay, that part actually makes sense. If I were the literal Devil, somewhere like Hollywood makes sense. He couldn’t have even been the weirdest guy there.”

“Not really.”

Her Big continued, “but I’m guessing if he’s not just doing the Devil look for the tourist crowd at night, things got worse?”

“Yeah, and complicated. I…stuff we started figuring out when I wandered on accident into _Tenebrae_ with Cheryl and realized they’d moved here too…we started learning things about my mom and me. It’s pretty nuts but we’re miracles, and I mean _literally_. God wanted to create a fun leash system for Lucifer and started making miracles. Mom’s one cause without God literally having the First Born angel ever bless my grandma she wouldn’t exist at all. Then me. I guess I kind of came along. I mean, I started hanging with Lucifer again at _Tenebrae_ cause he and Maze were like family back in L.A., and I missed them a lot. But, yeah, a lot is going on with me and both of them are good---all the Lilim are fine, actually---and they protect me.”

Lettie blinked at her and didn’t speak for a while. Technically, Trixie hoped that her Big didn’t press more on her assessment of the Lilim. Maze, Taka, and Ez she trusted implicitly. However, the other guy Lilim and she weren’t close, but they were loyal to Lucifer, so they weren’t gonna hurt anyone but leeches.

Fine by Trixie.

“I said too much, huh? See, it’s all messed up,” Trixie replied.

“No, but I’m trying to digest a lot. So, you’re a literal miracle?”

“Yup.”

Lettie considered that. “And your mom is too?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, I get the LAPD got solving crimes and getting cases cleared for putting up with Lucifer’s bullshit. At his best moments, he’s kind of a hot mess. I mean, wasn’t exactly a rule follower.”

“Imagine that with the Devil.”

“Yeah, well, I think what Lucifer got out of everything was he fell hard for my mom. He didn’t know what she was or that miracles were even a thing for a while after he first met her. But I think Luci started as her consultant because he was crushing hard and fast.”

Lettie’s expression darkened. “And with you?”

Trixie half choked on her soda. “Um, no. Not at all. Dude, I’ve known him since I was seven. Nope. I mean, with me Lucifer is like having a very annoying, very overly invested step-dad or, I dunno, kind of like a mother hen type?”

“The Devil mother hens?”

“Oh, a lot, and he has so many opinions on make-up advice and my wardrobe choices. Makes me study all the time. So yeah, it’s not like my dad cause that’s not a thing. I dunno…kind of like a mix between a really trendy uncle and possibly Batman? Um, no pun intended, but I guess in New Orleans, he definitely sees me as a ward.”

Lettie nodded. “So, Satan and his demons are just your friends and aren’t trying to hurt you or secretly take you to Hell?”

Trixie sighs. “Would it be weird if I said ‘I wish?’”

Lettie stopped even pretending to eat then. “You’d like to go to Hell? See, I knew that the whole _Tenebrae_ and Devil stuff…it’s no good.”

Trixie tried not to take that personally. To be fair, despite her middle name, no one ever really accused Trixie of thinking things through or making any prudent choices, like ever. Still, it was hard to explain. Even her two best friends thought she was nuts for wishing she were Lilim or, if not that, at least got a choice on where she’d go after she shuffled off that mortal coil.

“It’s not an option anyway. Maze doesn’t have a soul and Lucifer is gonna run Hell from now until the end of time, so there’s something kind of shitty in knowing that my afterlife won’t involve them ever. I mean, miracle is apparently also an automatic pass to heaven, do not pass go and do not collect two hundred dollars.”

Lettie exhaled and at least took a small sip of her Sprite. “Good then.”

“Everyone says that.”

“Yeah, imagine me not wanting to see you damned for all eternity. I’m such a bad big sis.”

Trixie shrugged. “I mean, if it makes you feel any better, even _Lucifer_ thinks that I’m crazy for wishing for more options, but, yeah, miracles can’t go anywhere else, so Lucifer isn’t…he doesn’t take souls anyway. Never did, and it isn’t his call. The whole deal with the Devil thing is true but just for I.O.U.’s. Lucifer has zero interest in actual souls. Like at all.”

Lettie considered that and drummed her fingers against the dinner table. “Okay, so I think I’m getting it, mostly. The Devil---”

“Lucifer really.”

“So, Lucifer is an old family friend from back in L.A., and he was always kind of drawn to your family even before he realized it because both you and your mom are miracles.”

Trixie shrugged. “Yup, that’s about the main gist. And I’m not going to actual Hell ever and Lucifer is literally the last person anywhere who’d want me to. Trust me; there have been arguments.”

Her Big scowled at her but didn’t comment on that part. Instead, she moved back to the miracle thing. “Alright, so what does being a miracle even mean for you and, also, how did literally St. Michael at four a.m. get involved with any of this? Shouldn’t he hate Lucifer?”

“Well, they have a truce to keep me safe for the rest of my life so maybe later they’ll go back to being mad at each other?” Trixie said.

She hoped, honestly, that Azrael and Michael could be friends with Lucifer someday, that even if she were stuck in the Silver City eventually, that Michael and Lucifer would work alongside each other. It wasn’t possible, considering that Michael would always be loyal to God and God seemed to exist to make her best friend miserable.

But Trixie wanted to hope for better.

“I’m serious. I don’t know how the most famous archangel got wrapped up in this,” Lettie insisted.

Trixie shrugged and dug into her cake. If she was going to a tribunal, she was going sugared up. “Miracles come with abilities usually. Mom didn’t grow into hers because when she would have developed it, my grandpa was murdered on the job and her whole life kind of fell apart for a long time. There’s kind of a window between eighteen and thirty-three. Either you develop powers or you don’t. I just finally figured out what mine is today, but Michael was the angel who helped bless most of the miracles so he’s been trying to help us all figure it out too. He just…uh, isn’t on Earth much and doesn’t understand you can’t just show up randomly.”

“Like at 4 a.m. in the bathroom?”

“Angels are idiots a lot of the time. I mean, they don’t apparently hang out with people enough to get how rules work or maybe just don’t care.”

Lettie considered all of that carefully. “Okay, just so I know whatever you do before we get to the meeting, I’m gonna forge ahead on that miracleness.”

“Thanks.”

“But first, just so I’m clear: the demons you hang out with are safe, the Dev… _Lucifer_ is just like your annoying uncle who wants the best for you---”

“Basically, but if you told him that to his face, he’d get all offended and then ramble about how he hasn’t been tamed and everything else. He is very proud of his reputation, even if he’s not that evil and so fussy and I said mother hen, right?”

Lettie laughed at that. “You did a few times.”

“Yeah, so that sums most of it up. The club’s not evil, and I’m not damned, and Luci’s actually this weird mix of immature, action movie-obsessed idiot and fussy uncle type. It is what it is, you know?”

“I’m taking your word for it, since I haven’t really met Lucifer yet, just seen him and it’s… _a lot_.”

“Yeah, I know, and I know now cause his dad is messing with him big time and punishing him extra hard since L.A., well, I know he doesn’t look like it. Still, he’s kind of a goofball and he can’t really be left alone. I just…if anything, Maze and I trade off babysitting. So my life? So not full of illicit devil trysts. Or like goat sacrificing rituals damning me to Hell either, nope.”

“And Michael?”

“He’s annoying and overbearing and an idiot and he definitely is all on Team God and everything else. But for now, he’s trying to help me and Luci, so that’s all there is.”

Lettie frowned at that. “So, he doesn’t go around slaying vampires?”

“Nah, Maze and Lucifer were cleaning out a nest and the dumbass blundered into it. But I mean, if it makes you feel better, I have pretty much all the most important people in heaven or Hell looking out for me, and I’m not damned at all.”

“And here we are.”

Trixie picked at her cake restlessly, her appetite dwindling. “Yeah, so you tell me about _Sight_ and your family, and I’ll fill in anything else you need to know about my miracleness.”

Lettie took another sip of her drink and sighed. “My family’s been in New Orleans for a while, a couple hundred years. I mean, you know how this town is a whole soup. One of my great great grandmothers was apparently a seer, low level really, from Spain. Came over here cause port city and it’s been in my family ever since. I mean, I can’t play the lottery with it, you know?”

“Lame.” She frowned, thinking of her nightmare this morning. “So how do…how does it work for you?”

“Tarot cards help me focus if I’m trying to really see something.”

Trixie laughed and sat up straighter in her chair. “Ha! Told him!”

“Who?”

“Luci said that Tarot was b.s., and I was like that can’t be.”

Lettie shrugged. “Honestly, a lot of the fortune readers in the city aren’t the real deal. I could have used a crystal ball or tea leaves or even animal blood to focus. My grandma does tea leaves and my momma works with wishbones. It’s just whatever works as a way to get you the right head space. I mean, not sure how I feel about saying this out loud, but the Devil’s not wrong. Like 90% of Tarot readers aren’t real. I just happen to be one of the few who actually can in the Quarter.”

“Cool. But can’t win the lottery, huh?”

“ _Sight_ doesn’t work for self-serving purposes like that,” Lettie replied and finished draining her drink. It’s kind of a pain in the ass. I can glean some things but not if it involves going to Vegas or something, nope.”

“And that’s it?” Trixie said, for once glad to be probing about someone else’s powers instead of trying to figure out her own.

“I mean that’s the way I can get a feel for future events; it’s all about interpretation since it’s never quite literal.” Lettie started collecting up all her food on a tray and then added Trixie’s to it as well. “I mean vaguely I can sense things. If there’s a glamour or lack thereof, I can tell.”

“And that’s how you knew Luci was the actual Devil, huh?”

“Yup, and I mean, I bet if I met your demon friends, then even if they’re sporting their human looks, I’d still be able to see them as they actually are.” Lettie finished sorting out the tray but didn’t hop up to put everything away just yet. They had a few minutes left before the gallows anyway. “And, so, if your whole miracle thing comes with a power. What do you do? Ooh, can you turn water into wine because that would rock at mixers.”

“I wish,” Trixie replied. “I have _Sight_ too. Or, at least, I think I had a dream that was prophetic? It was pretty intense last night, woke me up by five a.m. I just…some big stuff _is_ going on, and I hope what I saw in like ten years isn’t true or that if it is, at least I can fix it.”

Trixie didn’t get to add more before Lettie reached out and grabbed her hand. Like with Constantine a few weeks ago, whatever Lettie was doing wasn’t invasive, but it did leave her slightly warmed. It was maybe like a flash of static electricity surging through her.

And then some.

When Lettie was done, she leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “Well, that’s new.”

“Is it?”

Lettie nodded. “I’ve met all types of witches and other seers. I mean, okay, the first time I’ve ever seen anything Infernal, I went from 0 to 60 by spying the Devil bartending.”

“It’s a thing,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes. “I think he mostly just does it when I’m down there to have a pretext to keep an eye on me. Although, he’s definitely fond of drinking too.”

“Yeah, well I’ve felt a lot of things before and, you know, I come from a line of seers so I know what _Sight_ feels like, there’s a vibe between my family members who have it and also the few other non-familial ones I’ve met. You don’t have it.”

Trixie blinked. That made zero sense because she’d had the worst fucking nightmare of her life, and it _had_ to mean something. She didn’t want it to, but cuddling under the nest of blankets and the 1000th mind-numbing _Bones_ marathon had felt so real.

Enough to keep her up for the next few months endlessly, she was sure.

“No, that has to be it. You have no idea how bad my dream was. It _was_ real.”

Lettie quirked her head at Trixie and studied her with unerring scrutiny. “Maybe it _felt_ that way, but, Trixie, I don’t think you know what you do. Oh, there’s definitely something there. I can feel you have power there and it’s pretty untapped or, at least, I don’t think you’ve ever used it on purpose before.”

“But it’s _Sight_ because I saw Lucifer and my dream was messed up and I have had like zero sleep, and it all fits with what happened when he and Michael sparred and---”

“Wait, what? Back up. I’m a decent Catholic…kind of. I mean, I know enough to get that the last time Satan and St. Michael had a go…”

“Well, the actual last time, Lucifer threw Mike into his Steinway and ruined it cause drama. But yeah, the time before that, totally all The Fall.”

“But then the Devil and the Sword of God had a big old sparring session because?”

Trixie huffed a bit at that. “I did explain right that Michael’s an idiot? Maze and Luci have been training me to be better with my blades. I mean, Maze is huge on self-defense. But Michael invited himself and brothers and unresolved issues and a huge fucking mess.”

“Oh, so Michael had left over feelings?”

Trixie shook her head. “Nope, other way around, and it’s super complicated, but I just…what I saw had to be real. I don’t _want_ it to be, but it was too terrifying not to be true either.”

Lettie stood and glanced at her cell. “We have to get going, but we’ll put a pin in this for later. Trix, I’m not just saying this to make you feel better about your dream, but I know what a seer feels like, and you’re not one. I mean…it’s different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’d have to say something with Conjure. I just…what you can do isn’t psychic. I can tell.”

Trixie let out a breath she’d apparently been holding all day. What she’d seen wasn’t true…but Lucifer was still struggling badly, and what he’d done to Michael had scared all of them. When something made Maze upset, then it was truly bad. But maybe he wasn’t going to…

 _Maybe I’m not hurting him after all_.

She inhaled deeply and let her shoulders ease down. “Yeah, well, I’ll figure it out I hope soon enough. I’m sick of not knowing.” Trix followed her big to the trashcans and sighed again. “Of course, now it puts me back at square one with what I do.”

Or mostly cause Constantine said Will and even Lettie felt that Conjuring was there. Well, it would be nice if it would go ahead and show the fuck up already. She needed something to bring to the table since she’d only be so good with a blade and wouldn’t be able to get surprise on a vamp like she had with Esmée regularly.

_Seriously, just hurry up already superpowers._

Lettie finished putting their tray on the conveyor belt for the staff and gestured with a nod toward the grand stairwell up to the meeting room level. “You ready to deal with the Wicked Witch of the West and apparently her bonus sister?”

Trixie groaned as she laced her arm through Lettie’s bent elbow. “No, but since we have about five minutes left as we get up there, maybe we can brainstorm a good excuse for me. Uh, what do you say to explain away an archangel covered in vampire blood to regular people?”

“You’d do better if you just claimed the emergency exit door is busted, and he was trying to pull a prank. Unless you want me to show that shirt and bonus ear as Exhibit A, Little.”

Trixie groaned one more time and tried to ignore how a few steps behind her Veronica Chang was already staring daggers at her.

Great this was going to be such a fucking trainwreck. Then again, at least her life would continue to stay on brand.

**

Trixie felt like she was a dead girl walking as she entered the meeting room. It was funny how a place with mostly over-stuffed sofas and a discount podium where, being real, she usually dozed off in the middle of the re-reading of the minutes was now causing her to have one Hell of a racing heart. Then again, she was the sister of the hour, whether she wanted to be or not, and everyone was staring at her.

Like it wasn’t _that_ bad.

So, she had one idiot (very, very big idiot), half-dressed angel drop in on her. Really, if you thought hard enough about it, it was more the vampires’ _remains_ fault more than anything else. After all, if there hadn’t been an ear on him, Michael wouldn’t have been that dumb to just take his shirt off. Although, there would probably have been campus police and then some involved if everyone had caught her with a guy who, again being real, had quite literally come from a slaughter and had the pieces clearly dripping from him.

This sucked.

But explaining vampire viscera away would have been even worse and more impossible.

Not that she had a cover story for this except just maybe trying to pretend her key card had gotten yanked without her realizing it. Which wasn’t a great answer, but it was still better than vampires, heaven, Hell, and everything in between.

Trixie wrapped her arm tighter around Lettie’s elbow and let her Big settle her in the front row of collected folding chairs. At least they weren’t making her take the stand. It was a small blessing, but it was at least something better than being up in front of everyone and having to face them. It was going to be hard enough looking at the board and whatever Virginia Chang from nationals was going to grill her on. Having over fifty other sisters stare her in the face as she defended herself…so much worse.

Once she was seated, Trixie tried to force a brave face as Annie took her seat with the board at the President’s slot. A few rows down, Annie’s Little and their other “family member,” Rhonda, took her place as the Vice President of Service Projects. It was good to have two of the board be on her side because Bigs and Littles stuck together. Then again, for something like this, a full expulsion was up to a vote of the entire sorority, so she needed to hope about 28 girls were feeling generous. She had three at least but, you know, 25 was a lot more to ask for.

Taking a deep breath and trying to pretend she _didn’t_ feel like her world was ending, Trixie pulled out her backpack and rifled through one of her portfolios there. She could have sworn she had both her black covered and her favorite red one there, but she’d had a confusing week so maybe she had her red one back at Luci’s. Possibly one was still left in Ohio, and she’d forgotten to move it from Michael’s place to New Orleans.

It was all a lot when you were in the middle of a diaspora.

But even if she was about to be kicked out (seriously, Universe, don’t let her be 86’ed), Trixie had worked hard on the plans for the sorority’s float for Mardi Gras. It deserved to be under consideration beside freaking Veronica’s and a junior, Callie’s, whom Trixie didn’t know terribly well since she was an art history major and they just didn’t overlap with classes.

Sighing, Trixie pulled out her design and stood up. She scurried to Annie’s slot and handed off her drawing to the president. “Hey, I figured since we’re voting on these first, it would be smart to hand in my finished design.”

Annie smiled, but even Trixie could tell how shallow the gesture was. Her eyes didn’t light up like usual, and it had to be a bad sign that her Gran Big was this stressed out. Trixie wondered if Annie had just found out about the Nationals rep too. What a fun bombshell that was.

Annie tried to keep her cheery nature up as she replied. “Great, just…the order got flipped, and I’m sorry. Virginia Chang insisted, and she has some like alumni donor thing for the law school she just _has_ to get to. I…we have to do the tribunal stuff first. I know that sucks but…”

Trixie nodded, trying to stay calm. “Oh, that’s fine. I mean, even if I’m gone, you can still use the design, right? I spent a week working on that look and I think…it would be cool, so if it gets voted on legitimately as the one, you’d still use it, right?”

A few seats down, Rhonda nodded. “Yeah, we can do that much. You’re _not_ getting kicked out, and you’re a way better artist than Veronica anyway. I mean, I haven’t seen Callie’s yet, but we’re not gonna toss you or your stuff to the curb, Trix.”

She sighed. “Hope not.” Trixie passed the sketch to Annie. “Good to go?”

The president shook her head. “Sign it. I mean I know your design, but if you win, you want your name on it so that you get credit, you know? It’s all best for the record. I mean Veronica and Callie signed theirs. All official.”

“Well, if it’s my last act as an Omega Chi, I might as well get my John Hancock on it,” Trixie replied, signing the back of her plans so that if it was shown to the full sorority as was for voting, then her reputation wouldn’t sink its chances either.

After that, she sat down, and waited for the meeting to start. Her head ached already and, honestly, Trixie felt a little dizzy, but it had to be the ridiculous amount of stress she was under. She leaned a little on Lettie and felt her heart go from racing to trying to escape her sternum when Mrs. Murchison came to the podium along with who had to be Virginia Chang. The representative from Nationals looked just like Veronica but, somehow, was even prettier. Bonus, ugh. The designer duds she had on made it clear that whatever law Virginia was into that it was paying her the big bucks too.

“Well,” Murchison started, glaring hard at Trixie. It made her stomach do flip-flops, and it probably said a lot about how shitty Murchison was that the Lilim didn’t do that to Trixie but somehow the house mom did. “you all know that this meeting has a different order than usual. We have to talk about a vote for possible expulsion for Beatrice Espinoza.” And a smile that was pretty much like the Grinch getting a terrible, awful idea spread out over Murchison’s face. “I’ll let the Nationals rep for the Southeast, Ms. Virginia Chang, take everything away.”

Mrs. Murchison sat down at a spare chair pulled up to the board’s table, and it sucked but Trixie took a small amount of comfort at the practical laser beams that were shooting from Rhonda’s eyes at the house mom.

See, again three people totally on her side, like close to thirty to go…

Virginia didn’t even look toward where her sister sat in the front row as she took the podium. Because of course Veronica had a front row seat about five to the right from Trixie.

The rep pushed a long strand of dark hair behind her shoulder and started. “Look, we have a few set rules for the safety of all the sisters from house to house and the no men after hours as well as none in the bathrooms are pretty big ones. We don’t want anything impure going on.”

Trixie sank lower in her chair. It was just so not that, even though the uncomfortable, stray giggles from the back of the room told her some sisters thought that it was.

Lettie snorted and leaned over to whisper to her. “So, you know, since they’re trying to prevent any Omega Chi bundles of joy, we all have to pretend it’s still 1965, great.”

Trixie laughed just a bit, but none of this was doing anything for her stress or her dizziness which were really picking up, as if she’d just gotten off about five carnival rides in a row. “Yeah, purity around here. Forget about it.”

Virginia continued. “So, Beatrice---”

“It’s ‘Trixie,’ she offered, not sure if arguing was going to help her or not. Probably not. “You can just call me ‘Trixie.’”

“Yes, well,” Virginia continued. “I guess since we _all_ know why we’re here…” More giggles erupted, and now it was pretty much most of the sorority laughing. So much for sisterhood. “do you have an explanation for what happened?”

Trixie stood up and kept her focus squarely on Virginia. She wouldn’t make it if she even glanced back to all the eyes leveled at her. “Look, Michael, um, he means well. He’s just kind of, uh, special. But the point is he got in on his own. I think he must have yanked my key card without letting me know. He surprised me, and I was _trying_ to shove him back out the door when I tripped, and it was a big mess. I know he shouldn’t have just popped in.” _Literally and dumbass wings_. “But that was the _only_ time he’s ever done that, and I didn’t pre-plan it. I mean, how dumb do people think I am?”

Annie stilled at the board table and, okay, maybe that came off as more combative than Trixie first thought.

Veronica snorted from somewhere in the front row. “Right because that’s totally how it looked.”

Trixie couldn’t resist. She twisted her neck to glare back at Veronica. “You and Mackenzie rushed in _after_ I’d tripped and while he was helping me up. You barely saw more than Mrs. Murchison or anyone else.”

Veronica smirked back at her. “Looked cozy to me.”

Trixie gawked at her. “It wasn’t and---”

Virginia banged a gavel---couldn’t be a good sign, could it---on the podium. “Ms. Espinoza and Ms. Chang, we have procedure for this. I was asking Trixie if she had an explanation. It’s still quite the infraction to lose a key card or have a boyfriend---”

“Really, really not,” Trixie huffed.

“Or a friend steal it and get access. It’s a safety concern.”

“I know, and I swear it won’t happen again. I really, really promise,” Trixie added.

It was then that Murchison took back to the mic, and Trixie realized how screwed she was. The old house mom studied her before continuing. “You have a lot of those guests from the bar visiting.”

“Maze came over one time to help me grab some stuff from my room. Michael was an idiot once…well, he’s dumb most of the time, but this was the one that basically involved B&E, and Luci… _Luke_ doesn’t leave _Tenebrae_.”

That was mostly true. And she’d learned lying from the best. Lucifer didn’t really leave the club if he could help it. Of course, she’d invited him over a few Fridays and once during a much-needed vampire rescuing.

“We don’t have rules against which questionable bar owners you can hang around with, Miss Espinoza, but I know that I’ve heard that bar owner’s voice more than once from your room.”

“And speaker phone---” she insisted.

Murchison glared at her. “Just admit you’ve been having both men come and visit you at all hours.”

This elicited catcalls from a few sisters, and yeah, kangaroo court. Trixie had called it.

Annie interrupted. “That’s not the most polite way to phrase that, Mrs. Murchison.”

The house mom calmed just a little. “Fine, but you have had a lot of afterhours visitors because I don’t care what you say about speaker phone for your cell. I _know_.”

Murchison wasn’t wrong, but if she’d really seen and noticed the Devil skulking around the sorority house (and thanks for the incantation Rae Rae), then Murchison wouldn’t exactly be talking coherently any longer.

Trixie sighed. “What happened last Saturday night wasn’t planned, I didn’t know it was going to happen, and I was trying to fix it when everyone busted in on me. I’ve never been trouble before---”

“All those gifts clogging up the living room this January,” Murchison countered.

“That’s not against rules,” Annie pointed out. “And the flowers made a great impromptu philanthropy donation from us to the Tulane Children’s Hospital this year.”

Virginia took the outbreak of murmuring across the room to switch places with Murchison. It was a little gratifying that Virginia’s expression was pinched, and she seemed as impatient with the house mom as Trixie was. Also, since half the girls assembled were nodding at the mention of the flower donation (because, of course, the Devil was also an idiot and felt an entire florist’s worth of flowers was the only way to say, “I’m sorry.” It was not). Could the uptick of interest in the flower donation be a good sign?

Could anything?

Virginia took control of the proceedings again. “Yes, okay, so there’s no proof that you’ve ever had anyone in your room after hours except the one pop in from Michael.”

“Yes, and I didn’t ask, and I was trying to get him back out. I’m sorry he really ambushed me, I am,” Trixie continued. “But I love it here, and I don’t want to be expelled.”

Annie nodded and stood up in her chair. “Trix is a good sister. She’s always around on Fridays and Saturdays as a sober sister. She’s friendly to everyone, helped with that inadvertent philanthropy project, and then spearheaded our Make-a-Wish bowling fundraiser last semester. She’s good people. I mean, maybe a censure?”

Murchison’s face grew sour, as if she’d sucked hard on about nine lemons at once.

 _Ooh, so counterpoint Annie_.

“And I honestly would tend to agree. This isn’t a repeated problem, despite Mrs. Murchison’s colorful reports. However, this isn’t the only fraction of Trixie’s we received at Nationals,” Virginia added.

Trixie sat back down, the dizziness and her creeping exhaustion too much for her. After she’d half-slid, half-fallen back into her chair, Lettie wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her tightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Ugh, peachy,” Trixie said. Then, she managed to croak out to Virginia Chang. “I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything else.”

Virginia hazarded a quick glance to her sister, and even more than when Mackenzie had squealed about the secret Nationals rep, Trixie knew she was screwed. When the rep turned back to her, well, even she couldn’t keep the sugary smile off her face. “The bigger complaint is that you’re scaring the other girls.”

Trixie’s mouth hung open. That was such bullshit. If she’d _wanted_ to, she’d had a few chances to super scare all of them by just not invisible-ing the Devil on his way out. But she didn’t so what the fuck?

Then, her stomach sank when Virginia bent down and picked up something that had been secreted under the board’s table---her red cover-bound portfolio.

“Honestly, we’ve had complaints that you’re a Satanist and your drawings are disturbing your sisters.”

“It’s not true!” Trixie objected, bolting up again. Because of course she wasn’t. If anything, she was kind of leaning toward not worshipping anything, and of all the beings out there, one of the last she’d become an acolyte for was Luci. Like she loved him, but between his terrible handling of his love life, his general immaturity, and painful lack of taste in movies…yeah, worst not-even-a-deity ever. “I’m not.”

Virginia held up the portfolio and flipped from page to page, and Trixie had to admit that it looked _really bad_. Most of those drawings included her drafts for _Maze the Vampire Slayer_ manga but also her reflections of hanging out at _Tenebrae_ were there too. Her others tended to be the still lifes, general doodles, and the Beelzebub sugar glider extravaganzas.

“Under all your chairs are some photocopies of the worst sketches,” Virginia explained.

Trixie was shaking with rage at all of this, at not only how blindsided she was but at the fact that they’d stolen her drawings. Those were personal and very much hers from her room. Her last week had been an epic clusterfuck, so she hadn’t even realized the portfolio was missing.

That they’d taken it from her.

Obviously her nemesis Veronica, who was grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat even as she picked up her own packet, had masterminded all of this.

It burned.

Lettie pulled the packet out from under her chair and frowned at her. “We don’t have to thumb through this.”

“It’s pointless not to,” she answered. “I mean, Virginia is showing them upfront too.”

And so her Big put the compilation on her lap, and Trixie didn’t really need to review them up close. She could tell perfectly well which was which as Virginia held up her exhibit---the originals that were by right _Trixie’s_. They started out mundane enough because, honestly, life at _Tenebrae_ was. Mostly. One of Lucifer having a drink near his bar upstairs, another of him that was almost a figure study of his wings spread wide and the focus mostly given to the shading and subtle tracing of the veins of his wings, and then a couple of him at the piano.

Super typical stuff.

Then, okay, it started to look worse because she might have…drawn some that were based on the show at the club on Saturdays. He and Maze were the two who always “fought” each other, but in her drawings, she had different, what-if takes on everything, fights that had never actually happened with Luci and Ez and Taka…Welkior even and his rows and rows of teeth.

But probably the most distressing ones were a series of three or four of what she imagined the raid on Esmée’s nest was going to be like when Maze and Lucifer finally tracked it down. The images were a few weeks earlier than when they’d actually found all the vamps, but the images remained brutal and ferocious. More than one beheading in them.

And the final one was her memory of her friend rescuing her from the crypt a month or more ago, roaring at Esmée and, more accurately, what was left of her shredded face. There weren’t just whispers behind her but a lot of chatter, and at least a couple of her sisters stood up and left the room but only after they’d balled up their Xeroxes and tossed them in the trash.

Trixie stood up finally, too frustrated by everything that had happened, too violated by how Veronica had stolen from her to stay calm, and stalked to Virginia. She ripped the portfolio easily from the other girl, who hadn’t been expecting her to grab for it at all.

“Those were mine.”

Veronica, who’d orchestrated all of this, stood up and rolled her eyes. “You only had to ask, Espinoza. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

Trixie turned to her and wanted to scream. “I’m being melodramatic? That’s rich. You didn’t even _ask_ when you all took this from me. They’re mine, and they were locked up in my own room. I was gone like twelve hours before I came back to get my stuff, and you stole hours of work from me. What the fuck?”

“Language!” Mrs. Murchison snapped.

“Fuck your language. _Jodaté_ for good measure,” Trixie shouted, and Mrs. Murchison could figure that second part out for herself. “If this is what you wanted, great. You wanted to shove me out because of a stupid board slot I was willing to totally share, great. And I mean, seriously, screw sisterhood if any of you went along with the theft and _then_ are gossiping about me now and my work. This was private and mine and _it wasn’t hurting anyone_.”

Veronica couldn’t stop pressing her advantage. “So, you’re not going to deny you’re some weird Devil-freak.”

Trixie’s fingers itched for even her switchblade in the moment. It was a terrible idea to piss off someone who’d was Maze’s protégé as far as edge weapons went. As it was, Veronica was fucking lucky that Trixie didn’t have any active miracle abilities (now or possibly ever). Still, she regarded the other girl with as much fortitude and, okay, buckets of hatred as she had in her.

It all bit her hard, reminded her of moving to Austin and talking too much about demons before she just learned to shut the fuck up.

Crazy Trixie Espinoza all over again, except she wasn’t even nuts. Her life really was that bizarre.

“I’m not, but the club’s my home, and I can draw what I want. If you don’t like it, don’t go sniffing it out. I have a single room and the way I decorate it is my business. I’ve _never_ put up anything in the commons that wasn’t like chibi anime doodles or sugar glider drawings, and everyone knows it. But I’m done. You want to witch hunt? I’m over it. I’m taking my drawings and I’m going home.” She looked at Rhonda and to Lettie and sighed. “You don’t all suck, but you know what? The rest of you can go to Hell.”

She turned and shuffled to Annie’s seat at the table. “I…can I have my drawing back? I’m withdrawing my sketch. If everyone’s so up Veronica’s ass, then you can use her plans instead.”

Annie’s eyes were growing watery. “Trix, I didn’t know, and we can try and appeal to someone higher up in Nationals. The Changs clearly---”

She reached across the table and hugged her Gran Big tightly and then took her float design back from the stack. “Nah, the fact it got this far…a lot of people don’t want me here.” She glanced over her shoulder and offered Lettie a sad half-smile. “And I know those who do are awesome, but it’s not enough. I have so much going on right now, and I don’t need this.”

She turned back from the table and regarded the sorority as a whole. Most were still pouring over her work and some were pointing and laughing madly at it, at least two of them spinning their fingers by the side of their temples. And Trixie had seen that shorthand gesture a lot her first year in Austin too.

“Yeah, I stand by that. Veronica? The whole social chair shit is all yours. Good luck.” She hugged the plan and her recovered portfolio in a death grip against her chest. “The rest of you? Fuck off.”

With that, she hurried out of the meeting hall and down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her.

**

Trixie paused at the main door out to the quad. Her head was spinning so badly now that she felt like she might pass out. The only time she’d felt as bad or disoriented was when she’d first moved to Austin and had her hay fever allergies go crazy that spring. She felt _that_ crappy. She was doubled over against the door and taking in great gulps of air to try and get equilibrium when a soft hand was on her shoulder.

Trixie looked back and couldn’t stop herself from tearing up at Lettie. “You should get back up there. You don’t want to walk out with me. They’ll probably put you on probation for it somehow.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine, and honestly I’m rethinking being her next year if it’s just the Veronica Chang show. Glad I decided to wait to renew my dues till after this shit happened.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Lettie shrugged. “I just might,” she offered, holding out her arms so that Trixie could pass her portfolio and backpack to her. “You look really pale. Are you okay?”

“Not really, I think the stress got to me cause I’m like this close to hurling and so dizzy. I just…ugh, I don’t even have the energy to wait for a ride share. Can you give me a lift to _Tenebrae_?”

“I’d love to. Maybe I should get to know Lucifer a little better. Put my mind at that extra level of ease.”

Despite how crappy she felt, Trixie laughed. “Trust me, we’re supposed to do a movie night that I owe him. It’s my choice this time but if you don’t have a huge Kimo Van Zant obsession or love shitty 90s action movies, you’re gonna be disappointed with the Devil’s taste in like a lot.”

“My brothers watch that crap. It’s the worst.”

Trixie brightened. “I know right? I get it both ways. Dad _is so into_ them, and I’m here and Luci’s even more into them. It’s like a trap.”

She felt lighter as they made the way through the front door. Like okay so things at _Tenebrae_ were a mess, but at least they were a team as far as keeping Lucifer safe was concerned. But at least here, Trixie knew when to get the Hell out of Dodge and keep moving. Things might even be looking up without Mrs. Murchison and fucking Veronica in her life.

And then she stilled at the sight of the massive parade float just sitting on blocks on their front lawn. It was festooned in huge sprays of red and gold carnations around its base, had a mast head shaped like an owl, though one in fantastically bright greens and royal purples, and toward the back was a huge Mardi Gras half-face mask in yellow and green harlequin style. The lettering on the side read “Tulane – Omega Chi Chapter, 2028.”

It was a banner painted in Trixie’s hand.

One that she’d _never_ made.

Lettie noticed that detail too and looked between the massive float and her. “Trix? When did you get that made?”

She shook her head and held up the design she’d just finished in the wee hours of her insomnia and shoved over to Annie less than an hour ago. “I didn’t.”

Lettie frowned but took the sketch and ping-ponged between it and the float before them. “I don’t understand.”  
  
Trixie groaned, and if anything, her headache was only growing worse and more piercing. “I drew that, and it’s _here_ now.”

“See,” Lettie said, her voice still shaking a little. “Told you that you weren’t _Sighted_.”

“Uh, clearly, Big, but I don’t get it.”

“Um, I think it’s obvious. You drew it, and it came true.”

Trixie shook her head and the whiplash it gave her so wasn’t worth it. Then, she gestured to the portfolio still clutched in Lettie’s hands. “Sure, great, but I draw like _all the time_. Why do I have a giant float here…” Or, now that she thought about it, that cat in Jackson Square or Lucifer and his weird sleeping cap rant which now actually made more sense. “But not this whole portfolio live and in living color?”

“No clue, but maybe your devil can help you figure it out.”


End file.
